Prefontaine Memorial Fun Run

Approximately a hundred yards from the finish of the Prefontaine Memorial 3k Fun Run, my right quad seized up and felt on the verge of tearing. I stopped. Running was impossible.

A hundred yards to finish on the track at Marshfield High School where Pre set state and American high school records in the late 60s. A hundred yards!

Pre would have gutted it out and finished, even if he had to crawl.

I am no Pre. I limped off the route and made my way (barely) back toward downtown Coos Bay where my ride was waiting.

It didn’t matter. Running the race was. It was the culmination of my 53-year-old special relationship with Oregon’s greatest sports legend, a relationship that included writing and publishing a book about Pre and stenciling a t-shirt with NEVER STOP PRE across the chest. I made the shirt for the race and wore it with pride.

My race analysis:

I took off way too fast at the sound of the starter’s pistol. Why?

I was just so damn giddy surrounded by a sea of happy runners of all ages. Being surrounded by happy people running a race honoring an Oregon legend is the perfect tonic to these trying times that try our American souls (that is if you have one.)

Sure it was a temporary feeling, but I’ll take it nonetheless.

For a moment, everyone was getting along and undivided. And I didn’t see a single MAGA shirt or hat anywhere, which seemed like a miracle.

One moment stood out. Five hundred yards into the race I was ripping it up the left side of the pack when I beheld a homeless man with a striking resemblance to Santa Claus if Santa Claus had ended up homeless on the Oregon Coast for a decade. The man had an improvised sled (I’m not making this up) crammed high with possessions. I surmised he had also rigged up some kind of harness to pull the sled.

But Santa and the reindeer-less sled were not the most memorable images from this moment.

That would be Santa rooting the runners on. He had obviously been aware of the race and staked out a prime site on the sidewalk to yell out encouragement. A homeless man in Coos Bay. It is entirely possible he went to high school with Pre. He was well into his mid to late 70s.

As I passed him, our eyes met. No, no twinkling nose. Just a silent thumbs up from Santa, and then I kicked it into another gear smiling the whole time.