The Annual Pre-Peachtree Post

Many of you know that I've participated in Atlanta's signature running event, the Peachtree Road Race more than 20 times now. It's the way me and 60,000 of my closest friends like to start our 4th of July celebration.

We're less than a week away now, from what I know will be a slow time for me, but I'm ready to run with this sign attached just in case somebody else thinks I'm running too slowly:

But for this post I want to focus on the first time I ran the Peachtree. It was back in 1980, and other than the Dolphin way-too-shorts,  and the requisite cheesy mustache as only a recently pubescent 14 year old can pull off, I looked pretty much the same as I do now. Also unchanged is the big goal of all but a handful of runners - those who might actually win the thing - namely, the Peachtree T-Shirt. A prized possession, this heavyweight cotton trophy was only available to those who beat the dreaded T-Shirt clock. That meant running the 6.2 mile hot and hilly course in 55 minutes or less, with one big ole asterisk.   Since the timing technology wasn't much to speak of, the only fair way to judge time was to start the T-shirt clock when the last person crossed the starting line. In other words, in a race of 25,000 participants, you really had a good 70 or 80 minutes to earn yourself a shirt. 

I ran that day with a couple of my best friends from the neighborhood, Brian S and Brian L. There was at least one other kid in our group, but since neither he nor his dad figures prominently into the story, I've forgotten who it was. If memory serves, we spent the night at the Brian S's house, and Mr. S was going to pick us up after the race. We'd arranged to meet at a particular large tree in Piedmont Park. Everyone knew the plan, or so we thought. 

The Farmer's Almanac website tells me the racetime temps must have been in the low 70's, about average for early July in Atlanta. I'm sure it was humid too. I remember being near Brian and Brian at the start, but I have no idea how long we ran together. I do know I finished alone, some 60 minutes later. I went through the water sprays, retrieved my t-shirt (left), and headed for the aforementioned tree. Mr S soon showed up, along with his Brian. That's when the fun began. 

Brian L was nowhere to be found. After a while, one's imagination kicks in. We'd seen stories in past Peachtree races about runners overcome with hear exhaustion, laid out on stretchers, being cared for by the medical team. Could that be where Brian was? As the minutes dragged on, concern grew. 

Finally, after a good 30 or 40 minutes, somebody in our party spotted Brian, wandering a bit aimlessly on the meadow. Mr. S asked him his whereabouts and when he failed to produce a suitable answer, the senior S declared, "Brian, why are you so damn GOOFY?" And from that moment on, for at least the next 10 years, everyone, I mean everyone, called Brian "Goofy." Poor guy!

I understand it's a bit of a sore point now that he's a successful real estate guy, so please, don't yell it out across a crowded room should you run into Brian L, OK?

For any of you planning to run the 2012 Peachtree, keep an eye out for my sign above. And if you're seeing it as I pass by you on Heartbreak Hill, just remember I had chemo and radiation treatment that week. What's your excuse?