Relay Race

Sometime in the spring of 1970, we had a relay race at track practice. Now, we did a lot of things at track practice. I remember having assignments like running 8 220's in 36, 34, or 32 seconds, whatever the coach would tell us. We were expected to have a sense of pace - to know whether we were running half a lap at one speed or the other. I also remember a day when we were running quarters in about 65 or 66, then walking one, then running another. As we'd come across the starting / finish line, Coach Rushing would be standing there with his stopwatch, and we'd say, "You got me?" and we'd do. Once, when I came across the line, Mr LaForge made some clever comment. Now, I don't have a competitive attitude or anything, and I'm sure that I've never done anything to smart off to one of our school administrators, but I do remember being disturbed by his comment. I didn't walk a lap. Instead, I said, "You got me?" and ran another quarter in 64 or whatever. I didn't realize at that time that my efforts to spite The Man were a whole lot of work for me, so I just did the immature thing and ran all the time. But that's not the story I want to tell you.

I'm pretty sure it was the spring of 1970 because Mike Funderburke was in the class of 1970 and he was out there. Apparently Coach Rushing was not happy with the handoff between Steve Cox and David Funderburke on the spring relay. I can't remember who handed off to who, but I think that Steve ran the back straight and that David ran the curve. Anyhow, this particular day, we were the only four guys out there, along with Coach Rushing. Mike would get a "rolling start" at one goal line on the football field, and I can't remember if Steve got one or not - I think he had to start from dead stop. That rolling start was a lot of an advantage.

Running on and around the football field was great, in the 10th grade. We had stakes to mark the quarter mile "track" around the football field, but I think that the stakes went away, and were replaced by the bare dirt path that so many boys wore in the grass. We came in 3rd in the state track meet in 1970, and we didn't even have a track at our school. If I was a high school track coach without a track, I'd probably use that as an excuse to lower my goals, and the goals of my boys. Coach Rushing must not be as smart as me, because he didn't let a detail like not having a track keep him from building a track powerhouse at Alief. But that's not the story I want to tell you.

I waited at midfield, with David. As Mike and Steve came close to us, we took off. Mike and I used the mile relay handoff. This is a protocol where the guy coming in says, "Take!" and that's then the guy leaving turns around to the right, looks back at him, and takes the baton in his right hand, and sets off. It's a very easy handoff to too, and very few mile relays drop the baton. Steve and David, on the other hand, were doing the blind handoff that is used on the sprint relay. The guy who is leaving sets a mark on the ground, just like with the mile relay handoff. But he takes off at full speed, not with the loping stride that the quarter-milers use, and when the man coming in shouts, "Take!" he doesn't turn around. He just holds his right hand out behind him, palm up, hand open, as still as he can while running at top speed. The man coming in lays the baton in his hand, and he closes his fingers around it and takes off.

Or at least that's the plan. This is a hard handoff to get right, and sprint relay teams drop the baton all the time. Steve and David were being worked extra to try to get their handoffs right. Mike and I were just targets to help them focus.

Steve and David were both faster than me in the sprints. I think I broke 11 seconds in the hundred yard dash a couple of times, but I'm sure that I never ran under 10.8. Except that one time in the summer Olympics (not the real ones, these were somewhere on South Main) when the big guy in the lane next to me ran 9.8 - I came in at 10.5 that one time. Steve and David were always running 10.5 or better. I'm pretty sure that they were both faster than Mike, too. In other words, we were the two slowest guys, using the slow handoff. They were the two fastest guys, using the fast handoff.

We beat them three times in a row. Mike used that rolling start to great advantage. We were turning in 100 yard dash times under 10 seconds, with a handoff in the middle. I realized that day that having a head start is better than being fast, and better than a smooth handoff. Actually, I think that our handoffs went very smoothly. We were still the slowest runners, but it was a hoot to beat those guys.

When I was 15, speed was a thing that had its own reward. There weren't many feelings better than tearing down the field as fast as you could go. We were running 100 miles a week back then, and I had about 3 percent body fat. We were in some kind of shape. And when we got going at top speed, running was about the easiest thing in the world. Maybe it was the momentum, or a tailwind, but there was no effort, no conscious thought to it. It's the closest thing to flying I can remember.

Now, more than 30 years later, it's very different. That kind of physical conditioning, and that kind of speed, are just childhood memories. Being from Alief meant we had lots of special memories. They came from volunteering for lots of school activities - with some people who turned out to be really fine human beings. In hindsight, we treasure days like the day that we had the relay race.

Mike and I treasure it the most, I bet.