A bit of Cowtown Marathon nostalgia

One Sunday, runners in the full marathon will go right past my house, and I'll sit on the front porch much of the morning and cheer them on. My daughter says she'll put signs in my yard.
I've heard various stories in recent years about who started the marathon. I was always told the idea was hatched in my living room. A group from the Institute for Human Fitness--all men, no women--met every Sunday to discuss the programs of the institute, a project of TCOM (now UNTHSC) devoted to helping people achieve wellness through physical fitness--an appropriate osteopathic concept. While they discussed fitness, a friend and I were in the kitchen fixing the richest, most sinful desserts we could imagine--I particularly remember Italian Cream Cake. And those fitness gurus ate every bite. But I was told the marathon idea sprang out of those meetings and my then-husband, Joel Alter, was one of the founders, along with Charles Ogilvie. Joel claimed the once-classic symbol of the race, Cowtown Charlie, was him, and it could have been with the big moustache. But I always thought it was Charlie Ogilvie.
The night before the first marathon we sat in the house and heard sleet. "@#$%! I didn't want sleet" was Joel's response. He left in the wee hours in the morning, and still early, I bundled up four children (one of them probably three at most) and drove over ice and snow to Fort Worth's Historic National Stockyards Discrict. In those days I worked in the Communications Office of TCOM and was doing publicity for the marathon. When we got there, I turned the children loose and spent the day doing whatever pr people do, including popping in occasionally to the RV that a local radio station had brought to the site and giving live on-air reports.
Now, I am horrified that I turned my very young children loose on the North Side, but they have assured me they were always with a huge bunch of kids. And they all survived, so I guess I should banish it from my long list of motherly guilts. They looked forward to race day every year, and, frankly, so did I. After Joel and I split, I did publicity one more year--I think to prove to him and to myself that I coiuld do it. And then I bowed out.
Charlie continued to run well into his eighties and always took first in his age group--no surprise there. Sometimes he'd take me to the carb-loading pasta dinner the night before, and I loved seeing old friends. I made a couple of really good friends through the marathon.
Today, of course, the race is a far different thing, a mega race with a full-time, year-round paid staff, probably ten times the number of runners we ever dreamed of, so many side events it makes my head spin, and this year, so I read, an exposition for runners, complete with demonstrataions of osteopathic soft-tissue maniuplation. The Institute for Human Fitness, a great concept, is long gone.
Tomorrow when those runners go by, a host of memories will flood me. Those were good days, another lifetime ago.

 

Memorial service for a fine man--and a visit with some of my family

The memorial service for my friend Charles was today, some six weeks after his death, which to me made it almost anticimactic. But Colin drove up from Houston and Jamie came from Frisco, both dressed to the nines in suits at a service where some people were very casual. Jacob had spent the night with me and was oh so excited about his uncles and his mommy coming at noon. "It's taking a long time," he said to me at least ten times this morning. They arrived and the boys went to a taqueria to eat, while Jordan and I ate tuna and hummus and hearts of palm--see who the healthy ones are in this family?The picture above shows the only three adults I know who will get the giggles while waiting in line to sign the guest book at a memorial service (unless their sister Megan had been there and she would have joined in). Jacob got drawn into the foolishness, but he really behaved perfectly for the first hour of  what turned out to be a long service. Then Jordan had to take him to the lobby to let loose steam.
Charles died July 3, so I've begun to get used to his absence in my life,though I will always miss him. I was drawn into the service first becuse they had a bagpiper playing "Amazing Grace"--I love the pipes but have a hard time picking out the melody, and Jacob looked puzzled and put his hands over his ears.But Charles was a good Scot. One of Charles' sons, Clint, showed a slide show retrospective of Charles' life that had some wonderful pictures, including one of Charles, Reva, and their four kids in one of their cars went they went in for race touring (that may not be the right phrase). Reva was beautiful, but I recognized the older beautiful woman I loved so much and cooked with a lot. And then there were pictures more familiar to me--the ranch, Charles running, the parts of his life I knew him for, and I've probably known him for thirty years. The saddest moment for me was the postlude--a beautiful cello piece--with a picture of Charles on a huge screen. I realized he was gone from my life, and I will always miss him.
Charles was an extraordinary man, probably one of the most intellectual men I've ever met, with a wide range of interests and none of them frivolous--which always made me wonder that he tolerated me and my frivolous interests. He had the most inquiring mind I've ever known, generally a happy and gentle disposition (I only know of one person he really disliked), an acute and sharp wit, and a great love of life. Not many of us are privileged to know someone like him, and I am grateful for the time I spent with him. One of the last times he and I went out together--when he was still able to get about without a wheelchair--we went to a favorite restaurant where they serve mussels. He had loved finding mussels on the beach as a kid and was anxious to eat them again--the first time he went to the restaurant, they asked him if he wanted white, red, or green sauce. Puzzled, he said, "They didn't come in colors when I was a kid." But this night, not too long ago, he ordered mussels and red wine and then a crab cake and then, if I remember correctly, we shared chocolate mousse. He enjoyed the evening immensely, and I enjoyed it just watching him eat so happily. Thanks,, Charles, for a lot of good memories--and some bits of good advice.
I spent the morning getting everything ready so I could fix a birthday dinner for Christian after we got home. We had salad, bifsteak hache au poivre (ground sirloin with cracked black pepper and a sauce of red wine, brandy, shallots, and beef broth), and Christian's green beans--cooked with bacon and vinegar. Pretty good if I do say so. But tonight I admit I'm tired. Long day well put behind me.

A pleasant day--bike repair, lunch and dinner with friends

This morning, both Jim and Lewis Bundock, the contactors who keep my house in repair, showed up to fix my out-of-control exercise recumbent bike. Took them about an hour--all the complicated directions Nautilus had sent checked out fine, but Jim finally called them and figured out how to reset it. I had started yoga for the day so finished it, but tomorrow I'll try the bike. Plumbers bid is in, and work should start next week on replacing the bathroom sink and rebuilding the commode in the main bathroom and in the guest house. And I should hear about the furnace next week--so far it seems to be holding its own. I figure things come in threes and I've had my three--bike, plumbing, and a/c. Of course I haven't paid for any of them yet!
Lunch today with a much younger colleague from the TCU library--thoroughly enjoyed it. We have a lot in common and a lot to laugh about. Tonight I fixed supper for Charles' daughter, Marsha, who is blind. When I went to pick her up, I didn't realize the friend she's staying without is also at least partially blind, so I waited in the car. No more--when I took her back, I walked her to the stair railing.
I've never spent much time around a blind person and not much even around Marsha, but I've learned to give her my left elbow, warn her about steps and obstacles, and generally get her in and out of the house safely. I suggested a meal out but she wanted to see my cat. She's also on a low-fat, no salt diet, so I fixed a salad of canned potatoes (oops, they probably had salt), that good canned tuna I order from Oregon (minimal salt), tomatoes, celery, scallions, and carrots, with a homemade vinaigrette. Delilcious if I do say so. I quickly learned to put Marsha's hand on her wine glass, her bowl of fruit, and the spoon for it. What I kept forgetting is that she can't see me when I talk, so as usual I talked with my hands and lots of gestures. Even worse, when she said something I'd nod and then realize that wasn't the appropriate response. But we had a good visit, and I enjoyed it. I hope to see her again, before she goes back to Alburquerque on the 18th. Being with someone who is not sighted is a good lesson in learning how people get along in the world and what you can do to help them. We talked about Charles, of course, but it was unsentimental happy talk--he would have liked it.
Busy days ahead, but that's good.