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by Jon Waldron
On July 4th, 1988, Rick Weinstein and I ran three races in one morning. It was a pretty crazy idea, but it was one of those ideas that, once you have it, you have to do something about it. Probably one of us was reading Boston Running News (that's what we used to call New England Runner), looking for a race to run on the Fourth. Well, July 4th is a big running day, with a lot of races. And, as luck would have it, the first race we noticed was 4.3 miles and started at 7:00 a.m. in Hingham. That's pretty early, and from there it was a short step to wondering what other races were going on, and whether it would be possible to get from one to another. It became a puzzle to figure out how we would do it.
We finally settled on a plan, which was to run the 7:00 race, drive to Needham and run a three-mile race at 9:00, and then hop over to Dedham to run a 10k at 10:00.
One of the things that makes this story stranger, is that we weren't alone when we set off on this escapade. Rick's girlfriend Helle was with us. Helle, who was from Denmark, was in the United States visiting Rick and having her first experience of an American Fourth of July. As we piled into Rick's car at 6:00 a.m., we assured Helle that this was the typical way of celebrating Independence Day in the States.
In spite of early-morning sleepiness, we found the race in time to register. We also discovered the first flaw in our plan. It turned out that the race was point-to-point, which meant that both Rick and I would be at one end of the course and Helle and the car would be at the other. We didn't want to run back if we could help it, and we figured it might make things uncomfortable trying to get to Needham on time. Although Helle had never driven Rick's car before, had never experienced Boston-area driving, and had no idea where the end of the race was, we convinced her that it was the right thing to do to drive a car in the general direction of Hingham Center. As it turned out, this was a bad idea.
The race went well, and after battling in the lead pack for a couple of miles, I was able to break away and win. Rick also finished in the top five. I don't remember exactly what happened next; I think we waited around for ten minutes, or so, waiting for Helle. When she did not show up, we started to panic. It was 10 years ago and the details are no longer clear but I remember turning around on the course and running at least two miles back towards the start, while Rick stayed at the finish in case Helle turned up. I finally found her, or she found me, or she found Rick who found me, and we headed out of town, precious tminutes having passed in the meantime.
But traffic was light, and we reached Needham in plenty of time. It helped that we had pre-registered. Actually, the race was advertised for Needham residents only, but I had lied when filling out the application, saying that Rick and I were writing a story about July 4th races, and were traveling from race to race to experience the events in many towns. Unfortunately, it turned out that the field in this race was very weak, and one mile into the race we realized we were in danger of winning. By a lot. Realizing what a mistake it would be to win this race, when we were entered under false pretenses, we attempted to slow down sufficiently to guarantee that a Needham resident would take home first place. This proved to be surprisingly difficult. I thought about dropping out, but then I wouldn't be able to say that I had finished three races. As we approached the finish line, the lone Needham-ite running faster than six-minute miles put on a burst of speed and passed us, and we were happy to fade to second and third.
Not wasting any time, we fled Needham and headed for Dedham and their annual 10k race. By this time the day was becoming hot, and we were becoming tired. Arriving in Dedham with 15 minutes to spare, we half-heartedly tried to summon up energy for the long race to come. As we walked to the starting line, road race guru Tom Hurley recognized Rick, and said, "Say, didn't you run the race in Hingham?" We told him what we were up to, because we figured if we didn't, no one would believe us afterwards. Right after that the gun went off and we were racing again.
That 10k was like the last miles of a marathon. I was tired at the start and tired at the finish. Even so, I was able to take third place against a fairly weak field. In fact, there was another CSU runner at the race and the three of us ended up winning the team prize. I still have the plaque to prove it.
The next day I was sure I had permanently damaged my legs, or at least ruined the rest of my summer. But I was young then, and recovered well enough. I don't know if Helle ever recovered; Rick never mentions her anymore. I hope the two of them are still friends. The strange thing is that every year when July 4th rolls around, I still look at the listings of road races and compute in my mind schedules that take me from race to race to race, traversing the suburbs of Boston as I did in 1988. Ten years later, I still consider that day one of the best running days I've ever had.