Clouds of dust swirled and hung in the air as I watched the runners circling the track in the one mile run. After a few laps John Portee strode quickly to the front.  Portee was tall and slim and ran with remarkable power and grace.  With his smooth stride, he soon left the other competitors far behind.  His winning time of 4:27 established a new state indoor record.

I followed Portee to the locker room below. He sat on a bench and I sat on the opposite end.  I watched silently as he opened his athletic bag, withdrew an orange, pealed it and ate it. We were totally alone. Suddenly, I blurted out, "When I am a senior, I want to be just like you; I want to win the State Championships and set a new state record." My words rumbled like thunder through the deafening silence and I was immediately embarrassed by what I had said. I could see he was embarrassed too, but he smiled and said a few encouraging words as I fled. Two years, four months and countless miles later, I realized my dream.

Tom Skutka's Outdoor State Championship record of 4:19.5 was the national record when he set it in 1955.  I knew the record was within my reach because I had run 4:17.9 and 4:18.7 in previous races, but to set the record, I had to beat the time and win the race.

I led through the quarter mile in 61 seconds, three seconds faster than I had planned.  I passed the half mile in 2:08, with Mike Spino, my chief rival, right on my shoulder.  Our three quarter time, 3:16, was announced and the crowd started to scream.  I accelerated sharply trying to break away, but Spino hung on.   As we entered the back straight the sun was sinking low in the sky, and I could see Spino's shadow on the ground.  I was in full flight, but Spino's shadow moved to the second lane, as though he was preparing to pass.  I dug deeper, and increased my pace.  We rounded the final turn and the crowd was shouting so loudly, that I could no longer hear the sound of Spino's feet.  I imagined I heard him right on my heels.  Too terrified to look back, I strained toward the finish line.  In a final frenzy I burst through the tape, staggered to the infield and collapsed.  Rolling over on my back I gave thanks that the race was over and that I had won.  Then I listened as the announcer gave the results, "We have a new state record of 4:17.4."

I shouted, "Wow;" I was so happy.  But in the next instant my mind asked, "What is the national record, why don't you shoot for that?" And then my mind remembered the hard work, the training, the races, the frustrations and the victories that led to this record and I thought, "My God what am I doing, I can't even enjoy this victory for one minute before I want something more.  What is the point of all this hard work?"

(For Another Point of View see "Spino's Perspective")

I set several records and won many races before I learned that the point of all this work, is all this work.  Our lives aren't about the records we set or the races we win, anymore than our lives are about growing old and dying.  Our lives are about the work we do trying to set records and trying to win races.

In 1970, I was training hard and I ran 29:44 for the 10K; in 1987 I was training just as hard and I ran 31:40.  The 1987 race may have been two minutes slower, but it was no less satisfying.  I may never run that fast again, but I know I will have many more great races, because I have learned that it is the experience of exhausting myself totally and perfectly over the course of the race that yields the greatest satisfaction.  Running on the brink of exhaustion, I feel all my cells and all my concentration operating at peak efficiency.  This experience of me being the best I can be is what makes the training and racing worth while.

The quality of your dreams and the quality of the effort you apply to achieving your dreams establishes the quality of your life.  A life of hard work and dedication is a life filled with satisfaction; a life of little work and little dedication is an empty life.

I believe each of us plays on a different levels, because each has different talents and inheritances, but the person who runs a 10K in an hour, enjoys the same satisfactions as the person who runs a 10K in 27:00, if they are equally dedicated.  It is not the time on the watch, but the planning, the training and the experience of running the race that yields the rewards in this sport.  I remember my state record run because I planned and trained for years and then raced to the best of my ability to achieve it.  The time on the watch is not the goal, the reason we need the time on the watch is to establish a direction we can follow in working toward our true goal, which is developing the excellence within us.  If you learn this, you will never be one of those runners who ruin their health and learn to hate running, because they mistakenly believe that the point of running is to set records and that the only satisfaction in running is related to these records.