Success in Failure (or One Runner's Story)

Last week I found out from friends on Facebook that Clemson University was discontinuing its men’s cross country and track programs at the end of this academic year. This has brought out such commentary as “Travesty!”. This is neither inappropriate nor over-stated. These programs are the definition of storied. Their history includes many conference titles, multiple Olympians, and even a few Olympic golds. But these are the least important of the teams’ accomplishments and contributions. The intrinsic meaning that has brought substance to so many beyond the programs shines much brighter than titles and medals. In the stories posted about this, I am struck not by the differences among them, but that many of the stories mirror my own. Like the posted experiences on Facebook of friends like Joe Hammond and Tim Stewart that are so familiar and similar to mine. Stories that center around not measuring up to these Clemson teams and yet gaining so much from that, gaining things that have lasted a life time. I started running to follow my father around, who was running before it was a trend, before it was a fever upon the nation’s landscape. I then started running for me. A consistent last place finisher in the 2-mile of every track meet I ran in for three years, I still loved each foot plant, each race. During my last two years of track, I blossomed and became competitive. More than that, I went from enjoying running to loving running. And even though my school had no cross country program, I wanted to run college cross country because there was nothing like training and competing on the roads and trails to me. As a high school senior, I contacted Clemson’s then head coach Sam Colson. Coach Colson was a former Olympian in the javelin and in my mind a bit of a dick (I believe time bore me out on this assessment). Still, I sent him my times and accomplishments and stated my desire to be a member of the Clemson Cross County program starting in the ’80-’81 academic year. He responded with an indiference which kept my hopes afloat. When I got to Clemson for my freshman year, I went to meet with Coach Colson. He said that I would not be able to practice with the team, but that I should run 80 miles a week in preparation for my tryout at Clemson’s first meet of the season. He then introduced me to Ian Davidson, former Clemson Athlete in Cross Country and Track and who was then an employee of the Clemson Athletic Department. This turned out to be one of my life’s most seminal moments (seminal likely doesn’t mean what you think, Count. You should google it 😊). I had heard of Ian from being a past winner of the Orangeburg Rose Festival 10K in my hometown. Heck he was a legend to me. But I did not know Ian until that point. Ian took me under his wing by running with me and introducing me to two other former teammates of his, Eddie Pennebaker and Dave “Geerman” Geer. It was to be the beginning of forming lifelong friendships and relationships. When I finally tried out for the team, I finished last behind Clemson and Georgia Tech while my mother watched, and my two youngest siblings Ginny and Greg waited bored in my dorm room. If there was another team involved, I have blocked that out to limit the number of people I lost to. My disappointment over such a resounding failure lasted the rest of that day and evening. But I had to get up the next morning and run with Eddie. This was no consolation prize; this was my routine and my joy. Eddie and his girlfriend (soon to be wife) the superlative Julie Pennebaker ne Brown lead me to a larger community outside the University. My circle expanded from Eddie, Julie, Ian, and Dave to include the likes of Tim Stewart, the famous Tommy “Pooh Bear” Williams, Steve (the Fig) Figueroa, Joe Hammond, Dr. Don LeTorre, Rolf Craven, Steve Hlis, Dr. Keith “Banjo Man” Allen. We formed the Outta Control Track Club or as “Pooh Bear” would say, “OTTC, OCCT, OTCC, daggumit, the Outta Control Track Club!” I also was blessed by having friends from the Cross Country team I was not good enough to be part of – Jim Haughy, Laurie Montgomery (the future and current Laurie Haughy), Hans Koeleman, Stijn Jaspers, Kerry Robinson, Tina Krebbs, Terry Goodenough, Bob (the grumpiest man in the world) Sams, the fearless Kenyan Julius Ogaro, Iain Campbell. Each of those people have affected their communities in deep and positive ways. Some did so with prematurely shortened life spans. Dr. Don Latorre who was one of my favorite people to run with, to hang with at Clemson very sadly passed a few years back. He was a professor of Mathematics at the University. Dr. Don brought the passion of mathematics to so many. I was never lucky enough to have him as a professor, but he once asked me if I had taken Linear Algebra. I told him I had and that it was a great subject that I really liked. He replied by saying if I had taken it under him that I would have LOVED the subject. I believe him. Stijn Jaspers, cross country great, Olympian with a ready smile and always a friendly word, passed in his sleep from an undiagnosed heart defect in his bed at Clemson. A stunning loss to all who knew him. Terry Goodenough died suddenly at the age of 52 in 2010. I will never forget the lanky image of him with short curly hair and wire framed glasses. I was trying to find him since social media had matured to the point that the remaking of lost connections was possible. He had made a great impression on me with his friendship and geniality when I was at Clemson in the early ‘80’s, and I felt this need to locate him. It was probably back in late 2010 the year he died that I found he had passed. I discovered from that internet search that he had lived up to and far beyond his potential. Google him, you will find him as amazing as all the others whose life he touched. The point being is that I can pick apart my memories to the smallest atoms on any of these people and state what a positive difference they made on a young man from Orangeburg. I can go on about the difference some of them still make. But my memories though special to me are unimportant to the larger scheme of things. What is important is that Clemson is bringing about the end of an era of touching people’s lives with a sport consisting of a relatively small number of athletes. What is important is that in a sport that promotes individual abilities, there is an inherent connection among them as a team, an inherent force that keeps them forming deep friendships over shared passions. What is important is in turning its back on the men’s Cross Country and Track programs there is a loss to much more than the athletes, there is a loss much more than the connections those athletes form outside the sport, there is a loss to the future. And I cry over that along with the ties that bind me to those that are part of my past and present and future.

Summer Dominoes

https://clemsoncrush.com/teever-handal/

It’s been an interesting summer. I have been alternating between worry and pride over our grandson going off to Colorado State University. Naturally this would lead me to thinking back on my own time at Clemson. By coincidence over the summer, I was contacted through LinkedIn by Connor Davis who lives just up the road in Monument. He is an incoming freshman this year to my alma mater. His brother had graduated from there and I believe ran Cross Country and Track. Conner was very excited to be headed off to Clemson. He set himself a project of interviewing as many Clemson alumni as he could in the area (and along his drive to South Carolina) and finding out why they loved the school. The link above is the interview I gave.

As I sat in a local coffee shop being filmed by Conner and his father, I found myself saying that I fell in love with Clemson not for the school itself, but for my friends that I made. This surprised me as I love the school and particularly the Mechanical Engineering and Math departments. I found most professors to be kind, helpful, and engaged with the students (don't ask me about Ernesto Suarez or a particular physics proffesor). And dorm life in Johnstone Dormitory was a blast. But instead of talking about the university, I talked about trying out for (and ultimately failing to make) the Cross Country team.

This experience lead me to Ian Davidson (introduced to me by Coach Colson as someone who could help me find people to train with). Ian was a Clemson graduate, former Cross Country runner, and legend (to me at least) in the South Carolina running community. Ian is a great person who immediately took me into his circle, introducing me to other runners some of whom had run for Clemson when they were students, others that hadn’t, and others that were still in school. It was running with them that really made me love my time at Clemson. Those friendships were and are something incredibly special to me.

It wasn’t long after meeting Ian that he introduced me to Eddie Pennebaker who at the time was a school teacher and his soon to be wife Julie Brown who worked in the registrar’s office. Eddie became my partner in crime (both in the running and friendship sense), and if I wasn’t on campus or in a bar I was over at Eddie and Julie’s apartment. That is not to say I wouldn't be found in a bar with Eddie and Julie. Eddie and Ian introduced me to a cast of others whose orbits I fell into as well. These are the characters of my college years: Steve Figueroa, Tommy “Pooh Bear” Williams, Dr. Don Lattore, Tim Stewart, Joe Hammond, Dr. Keith Allen, and Dave “Geerman” Geer. Together we became the Outta Control Track Club (OCTC or OCCT/OTCC/OTTC if you were Pooh Bear). We were a good group of runners, knocking back the miles, knocking back more than our share of beer, and sharing so many good times.

I could tell you a thousand stories of our group. The friendly rivalries with the Clemson Cross Country Team and the Greenville Track Club, mid-week “meetings” at the Study Hall bar where the goal seemed to be drink beer and see who could make me laugh hard enough to fall off my chair, and the many runs and trails and gatherings we held. But I will only bore you with one of those stories that sprang to mind this week as I drifted back to Clemson – The T L Hannah Band Run.

There was a race at T L Hannah High in nearby Anderson, South Carolina (proceeds obviously benefitting the T L Hannah Yellow Jacket Marching Band). Steve Figueroa, Eddy Pennebaker, and I donned our OCTC colors (black and blue baby!) and headed off for Anderson that Saturday morning. I hazily remember the race itself, the road, passing people, being passed, but I do know the three of us all did well. Eddie won the race, Steve won his age group, and I won mine. We were drinking light beer and awaiting the award ceremony when the race director finally came to the mic, and this is where the day became memorable.

The race director began going through gender and age group awards, and for the first and only time I can remember a race director mispronounced all our names. Steve Figueroa was called to the podium as Steve Figeria, Eddie made his way to get his trophy as Eddie Penbauker, and in the ultimate butchery of the day I answered to Teexer Hardel. To this day, when I talk to Eddie he will call me Mr. Hardel, Teexer, or Tex. Perhaps you had to be there but I think of it as universally hilarious.

I am fascinated by how memory works. My grandson leaving us for college primes its pump, a new friend sets it in motion, and then things start tumbling. Without knowing exactly how, I find myself at once in Clemson, in Anderson, in Colorado Springs, and up at CSU. All the years a mix in my head. The summer has sped by and Russell is now enjoying an entirely new experience at Fort Collins which we look forward to hearing about and having him share with us. I hope he has his own version of my college experience. The summer won’t last much longer, but with my memories I can be anywhen and anywhere, and that’s something.