Chapter 13: There Is No Place like Home

There are two things that are important in the York Cross Country season. Each year our goal was to win the West Suburban Conference Meet and then the Illinois State Meet. Anything else was icing on the cake. Any meet that we won before the state meet was part of the process of getting to the goal we had set. In all the years and now with the establishment of the Nike Nationals, those goals have still have not changed.

It was four weeks to go until state meet. As we headed into this week, the intensity of the workouts changed. Our Monday workouts were still tough, but the rest between intervals had been increased with the focus of the workouts being more speed, more sharpening for our date at Detweiller.

The morning runs were easier for everyone except me. My hamstring in the morning was at its worst. I would get up thirty minutes early to get in the shower and let the hot water just pour on that leg before I would go to school. It would loosen up on my walk to school. When I exerted any force on that left leg, it was sore.

Our warm up before the main core of the workouts were not bloodbaths during this time. Mr. Newton had to say a couple of times during the meetings to make sure we did not go too hard on the warm up. They would be a good pace but were not killing each other in the process. There was a lot of joking around during that time.

The Monday before conference meet was also Columbus Day. Our practice would be in the morning, so the rest of the day would be ours. It meant for me to get ahead on projects that I needed to get ahead of.

This practice was a fun one at the beginning. Columbus Day was also costume day. Some of the guys would dress up in their favorite characters and have to perform in front of the entire team. It was not hazing in one bit. If you wanted to do it, that was great. It was a chance to relax. Nobody was off limits. There would be some guys that would impersonate a teacher in school or someone else on the team. No repercussions were taken what so ever.

I did say no one was off limits. Dave Haller did a great impersonation of Mr. Newton. Everyone did not know how to react at first. That was until Mr. Newton fell off of his chair laughing. I do not know if they were laughing because Newton was laughing so hard or that his laughter broke that tension.

Henry did not win the contest. Wags and Rags took a page from Monty Python and came out as Gumbys. It was the winner hands down. Everyone the rest of the day was saying “My Brain hurts.” Even Mr. Newton said that one time during the workout. It kind of shocked us inside. We were also smiling that he understood our warped sense of humor. I did not participate in any of those costume contests. I saved my impersonations for the runs in front of the school.

One of the things that Mr. Newton is great at is getting his runners ready to go for a meet. There would be words of inspiration that would be directed at particular individuals. At the same time, he would take down a few of us as well. “There’s no way you guys will beat Pugsley on Saturday.” He would pause and then smile. I wanted to say that I already did but I kept my mouth shut. That was the past. He did not make the meet to be something colossal. It was just another meet to us.

Wednesday was our continual run in front of the school. We would have visitors come to practice watch us run. On this day, it was Dr. John Durkin who had talked to us a week before about the importance of stretching among other things. Doc Durkin was someone that was ahead of his time. If someone was complaining that their foot was hurting them, Mr. Newton would send him to the Doc. He was just starting up his practice at that point. That time in 1978 was the beginning of a great relationship between Newton and him. Before he retired from practicing medicine, he would always go down to the state meet with the team. He saved me in 1999 when I threw my back out the morning of the state meet. I was sent to his room where he had a massage therapist dig under my bone to loosen up the muscle. It hurt so good.  I was able to run all over the course on that day.

On this Wednesday, he was going to film us running towards the camera and evaluate our running style towards the end of the workout. He was only going to look at the top seven. It was decided that I would go last. I had mentioned earlier that my right leg swung out when I run. It was not just a little bit. If my leg was going to go for a seven-ten split in bowling, it would knock the pins down without a problem. In one workout in college, my distance coach Ken Popejoy was running a workout with us. He told us he would be in lane 1. Newman would have Lane two through lane eight. I got used to that ribbing.

Each one of the top seven would run towards the camera. Dr. Durkin would critique the form, stride, etc. of that runner. Then it came down to the last one to run towards him…me. The guys were standing behind him and started to laugh as I came towards the camera. I was not efficient in my stride what so ever. Have you ever seen the Tazmanian Devil go after Bugs Bunny? That will give you an idea.

As I approached him, he told me to stop. “Go back and run to me again. This time don’t fool around.” The guys behind him were holding back their laughter as I went back. I was serious like I was before and ran towards him. Henry and Heds told me after that the only thing that he said was “Oh my God.”

Before Dr. Durkin could say anything to me, Mr. Newton interrupted him and said, “Don’t do anything with him Doc. He is running great.”

That made me feel better. During the rest of the cool down, I was the butt of all the jokes. At one time or the other, we would get our shots. This time was mine. If this was showing love to one another, we really loved each other.

Many years later, Dr. Durkin told me that he thought I was kidding. “I saw you running up there and I could not believe that,” he said. “But after seeing you run in a race, I knew it was believable.” I loved Doc Durkin and the Durkin family. He became an unofficial member of the York entourage after I graduated. The morning before the 1999 state meet, I was 37-year-old at that point. I woke up and I could not walk. This was a big meet for them on that day. As I watched Donald Sage, Pete Cioni, and the rest of the team walk to breakfast, I was struggling. Doc noticed it and told me to come to his room after breakfast.

His assistant was with him. They told me they were going to work on my back to loosen it up. A knock on the door and there was Mr. Newton. They worked for 20 minutes on my back working under my shoulder blade. It hurt so good where I was loudly moaning. Doc was working on Mr. Newton and he was also feeling the effects of a good massage. I received a painkiller that loosened my back even more. I was running all over the course on that day. I don't know how many times I thanked Doc for that. He was a great doctor, but even a better man.

My Friday night, I did nothing different. A big plate of spaghetti and some bread would be dinner. Then packing my bag for the morning. I did this the night before because I did not want to rush around in the morning. My spikes were tightened. My uniforms and extra t-shirts were in the bag. Everything that I needed I had. It kept my mind off of Saturday doing those things. Everything was rehearsed. I would get up in the morning. Go for a short run. Shower. My mom would have oatmeal and toast ready for me. Then I would walk to school. That mile walk was when I got focused. If I wasn’t when I started the journey to York, I would be by the time I got to the gym front door.

The Thursday night before, I ran the race in my head. I did not have visions of being in the lead or anything like that. I concentrated on my teammates around me and the joy of winning the team championship afterwards. That is all that mattered to me. If I was towards the lead, fantastic. But if I was, there better be a sea of green around me. 

As the bus pulled up to East End Park Saturday morning, I could not believe how alive it was. There were flags set up all over the park to keep the fans away from the course. The trees around the park were changing colors giving the park so much more character. If you have never seen a meet at East End Park, it is an experience. It is a small park that is nestled in the middle of a neighborhood in the northeast corner of Elmhurst. To the east of it is the 290-extension highway. Back then, there were no walls blocking the noise of the vehicles. On a Saturday morning, it would be less of a factor.

East End Park is not a physically challenging course. No hills, pretty flat. There is one incline that is not noticeable but would always remind me a little of Detweiller Park. Once you got through the front loop of the park, the main loop was one half mile. Track on grass is what we called it. You had to have some speed, but you had to be mentally strong to keep up with the strain of going around and around mentally. We knew every blade of grass on that park. It was our home. We wanted to be rude hosts.

I was sitting under a tree in our team area deciding what socks I would wear that day. That year, I would wear anklets. They felt the most comfortable in on the Nike’s I was wearing. The anklets were different colors. My favorite was a navy blue. I was kidding with the rest of the guys that I should wear a red pair.

Freegs came up behind me and took both pairs that I was deciding on. “No way that you are going to wear those,” he told me.

“Well, I need to wear some socks. What am I going to wear then?” I innocently said.

He stopped and then threw them back at me. I looked at Willie and he was smirking a little. I knew Freegs was joking. I was glad we were all loose. 

At 10:00 AM, it was 65 degrees. The sun was cloaked all over this little hamlet. We were walking in our area waiting for the moment to start to warm up. We watched the freshman race. My brother Dan won that race. Actually, it was Dale Madsen and my brother coming into the chute holding hands. Mark McCleary, the starter of that race, came up to both of them afterwards and told them it was against the rules to do that. He did not disqualify them for that. Maybe it was because he thought they were freshman. Al McGuire, the famous basketball coach and basketball analyst, would always state that the best thing about freshmen is that they become sophomores. How true in this case.

Everything works like clockwork at York before a race. We always started our warm up 35 minutes before the race. Two miles and then we would stretch. We would do 6 x 110’s, get our spikes and singlet on and head for the starting line together. We waited for the last runner in this seven. We went to the line as a group. We left the line as a group. We were hoping that we would enter the finish chute as a group. That was the goal.

He told us there was no reason that we should not score more than 30 points in this meet in the meeting before we went to the park. Glenbard West would want to get at us. That was the team we were worried about the most. The one thing we knew was that we had home course advantage. I think the other teams knew that as well.

Especially on the old East End Park Long course, the key to success was to get out fast and establish your position. It narrowed out quickly as you went left of the tennis courts and around the south loop in front of the entrance to the swimming pool. We had Box 1 which was the worst place to be in. We would have to squeeze right around a baseball diamond and then head for that narrow passage way.

My hamstring did not feel good as the gun went off. For the next fourteen plus minutes, I just had to hope the pain went away or just ignore it. I also knew instead of going out slow as I liked to, I needed to be near the lead.

Glenbard West had the same idea that we did. Jeff Hill and Steve Pugsley established themselves in that first 400. Bob Mileski of Proviso West was up there. So was John Keen of Riverside-Brookfield. So was John Walsh of Lyons Township. So was our pack of seven.

It was amazing coming down the east side of the park heading to where the starting line was. The two Glenbard guys were in the lead. Then came us. The band started playing. The cheerleaders that were there were cheering. Even though I was focused on putting one foot in front of the other, I realized that the noise in that small area was overwhelming.

Most of the people that were at the park were cheering for us. It was kind of intimidating. We got to the mile and our pack was already established. Rags, Willie, Heds, Henry and me had broken away from the rest of the pack. Wags and Freegs were close behind. I heard someone yell that we had the race won. The thing was, we still had two and a half laps to go and we knew anything could happen.

The early fast pace had taken a little out of me. My comfort zone was going out slow for the first 400 and then making sure I was near the front at the mile. In our mind, the first mile was all maintenance. The race began at one mile. When you have four of your teammates around and you are a little tired, they pick you up. Heds nudged me as we went around the tennis courts and yelled stay with us. I did. Henry started to drop off a little bit, but we had the race in hand. The last 800 yards of the course was concentrated on going after Hill and Pugsley. Willie was the one to do that. We just followed his lead. As we made the turn around the tennis courts and headed down the middle of the park to the chute, Willie went into an all-out sprint to go after those two. Heds and Rags followed. I looked behind and saw that Henry was the closest guy to me. It was a long green line heading towards that chute. How sweet it was!

Pugsley had too much of a lead for Willie to catch him. But he did get Hill 20 meters before the chute. Pugsley finished 14:02 on the 2.8-mile course. Willie was 14:04. Then Hill was a second back. Then came our pack. Heds and Rags finished together at 14:07, two seconds behind Hill. Then it was me finishing sixth five seconds behind. Then Henry was four seconds behind me. If we were going for making a statement, we certainly did. Freegs finished ninth, Wags twelfth. Seven runners in the first twelve in a conference that had five schools ranked in the top 25. We only scored 24 points. Glenbard West was a distant second with 60 points. John Keen, the runner from Riverside-Brookfield that beat all of us earlier in the year in a dual meet, finished 49^th in this race. All seven of us were ahead of him on this day. Yes, we had remembered that. We liked John but this time we did not want him near us.

I honestly did not hear Mr. Newton during the race. It was so loud in the park. We were walking back to our team area a happy bunch. We noticed as we were walking that a few of the Willowbrook runners were at the park to watch our race. The day before they had won the Des Plaines Valley Conference pretty easily. We not only made a statement to the rest of the state, but to them as well. Our split was only 12 seconds. Newton was elated. He hugged each of us. We were on cloud nine after that race. We had realized our first goal of winning a conference championship. With how close we were to each other during the race, in our minds we knew that we could achieve that second goal.

We were kidding around during our cool down. Mr. Newton called us over and told us that a photographer from Press Publications had just showed up. He wanted to recreate a picture of the first three runners, so he needed Willie. When we saw the picture in the paper a few days later, we all laughed. All three runners had training flats on as the picture was taking place. It looked so fake to us. Well, it was!

We won all four levels of the conference. “It was only the third time that we won all four levels in our history,” Newton told reporters. “That was just a great race. We told them they had to meet the challenge and they did. I’m just proud of these guys. They just deserve all the credit.”

He said the same thing to the entire team after all the teams had left. The smile that was on his face was infectious. What a way for the seniors to go out. Their last race on their home course and to win the way we did. The seven of us were sitting together when he was talking. My hamstring was throbbing but the happiness in my heart overwhelmed that. We looked at each other and we knew what we had accomplished. In that look, we knew we had more to do.

I woke up Sunday morning. I knew that Saturday was not a dream. The soreness in my legs told me so. There was some satisfaction in my heart for what had happened the day before. As I walked over to the school for our Sunday run at Bullfrog Lake, I knew that this was just another day and knew that we were getting closer to something we started thinking about as a possibility a year ago. That was the feeling that we all had.

Yes, we had made a statement at East End Park the day before. We did have one more statement that we wanted to make.