a pat on the back

It’s funny how later in life you look up people you knew and there are now these whole new people. Buried deep within are the memories and times of the past, like the giant tree that is cut down, you can see in the center the sapling that it grew from. Patrick Tarpy is a very accomplished runner. However, to some people I am a very accomplished runner. The beauty of finishing a race, watching the mental and physical strain play out, brings a transcendent principal forward. It doesn’t matter if it is an 8minute miler or a 4minute miler. If both athletes are putting out the same effort that last minute or so of the race is basically the same. Some of my favorite finishes are those of people who aren’t really “good”, but to set it straight Pat is damn good.

I was a year ahead of the Yarmouth HS athlete. I still remember him wearing a cape at the western Maine conference meet’s awards. SO yeah, maybe he was also a little different, but what is wrong with that? Runners have always been an eclectic bunch. Pat’s freshman year he didn’t beat me once. He didn’t beat me during his HS sophomore XC season either. But sometime during his pre junior year summer, something switched in Pat and I was to never beat him again. He has gone on to run in the 13min for the 5k and I think somewhere in the 23’s for the 8k. This isn’t going to be some epic story of him and I racing each other, or the last time he lost to me. Rather I want you to hear about how the caliber of a person can sneak through in a moment.

I think it was my junior, his sophomore year. High school XC season was over but I had traveled to Maranacook HS to compete at the Junior Olympics meet. As is typical of the immaturity of HS racers we all took off like clothes on a wedding night. Throwing an elbow or two, I maintain my position in the front as we head into this forested path a couple of minutes into the race. Thundering down, three abreast and probably 40deep, we all make our way to a tree that had fallen down in the middle of the path. Like a steeplechaser I take the barrier. However, jostling behind me and a clip of the heal brought me down on all fours directly after the log. Raining down comes ¾ inch spikes as people have now just figured me into this obstacle.

Not able to get up, and not even a backwards glance from my competitors, I kind of felt nothing but a cynical quiet amusement and the piercing of a spike. As if I was getting a snapshot on how people really act. As the lead pack of racers passes Tarpy comes running up and goes out of his way to avoid me. As he takes a few strides past, there is this hesitation. Turning on his chance for the best race, he runs back and offers me a hand. I don’t think we said anything right then, as he helped me to my feet. Afterwards, not really knowing life as I do now, that moment of true empathy was lost on me. Drinking a few beers the other night I told the story for the first time to my wife and a friend. It came bubbling out of my vaulted memory as the beer came bubbling down my throat. Thank you Pat for being the athlete you were, it made me a better person.