Gillies-McCracken Competition Takes a Hiatus

George Gillies, my racing competitor, is on the far right. The photo was taken last fall at the 116th Infantry Race in Staunton, Virginia, by his wife Melanie B. Gillies. The others in the photo are Rich Ruozzi, SVTC Club President; Jeff Campbell; and Butch Proctor, now club vice president.
Scenes from the Mountain Valley 10 Miler Race Course.--Photos by Joseph Rudmin

As I've said before in this blog, George Gillies, a researcher, and I have been "competing" at the finish line for the last several races, beginning a few weeks ago when he "cut me off" and won a race by mere seconds. At the Half Marathon, I beat him by several minutes (he had lung issues). And then he beat me soundly at the next competition. And yesterday, in Keezletown at the Mountain Valley 10 Miler (a SVTC club-sponsored race), there we were at the starting line once again. He lagged behind, chatting with an injured friend and my race and running partner, for the first mile. I settled into a comfortable pace. Then shortly after mile two, he ran up alongside me. Race pace racheted up a notch. George was tired, having just run a Half in Fargo the week before; and I wanted to reserve some energy for the Dam to Dam in Des Moines next week.
A gentleman from Grottoes joined us; someone who had finished about the same time as me at the Half in Charlottesville, though I didn't catch his name or his exact place. Grottoes, George and I ran miles two through five, maybe even six, together. They had not run this particular course, so I had the rare joy of sharing the challenges and helping them plan. We turned the corner at mile 3.

"And NOW the race begins," I said.

We had reached the Goliath of this course -- a hill snaking up about 290 feet over a half mile. No conversation now. . .just the three of us in a line, slogging along the worst of this 10 mile course. About mile 6 the hills ended, and we ran down to a stop sign. Grottoes moved ahead. George and I chattered back and forth, a phrase at a time between gasps for air. His story parallels mine -- an accident with a semi, a punctured lung and other injuries, a walking routine and then running to heal and build up lung capacity to compensate for scars, and a new appreciation for relationship and life, a story I don't yet have permission to tell. The story was the highlight of the race, however, reminding me of my purpose, renewing my enthusiasm, and revisiting the foundational principals of faith and hope. Grounding. Centering. Once again, running and racing had become a metaphor for life.
Near mile 8, a short, but steep, hill loomed.

"Is that the hill you mentioned earlier?" George asked.
I chuckled and said, "Yup. . .no biggie, it just feels like it because of its place in the course."

The holy encounter with the Holy had passed; it was time now to turn the corner and "head home." Our history dictated that one of us should pick up the pace a bit and then, at the very end, one of us should fight for the finish. And we did; but not at race pace. Instead we just ran side by side, breathing hard, saying little . . . I matched my pace to his; fighting for the strength to stay alongside.
"We should at least fake a photo finish, don't you think?" I asked.
"Yes, we should," he said.
The last corner. He ran ahead for a few yards. I struggled to catch him. But then, I am sure he glanced back and then slowed down a bit -- on purpose -- to let me catch up. And so we took the final corner together, and headed down into the shoot side by side.
"Give me your hand," he said.
I did, and he raised both just as we shot through the finish -- to the cheers of a handful of spectators. A photo finish indeed -- two competitors side-by-side, hands joined in the air.
"Put Anieta first," Karen, the time keeper said.
And so, according to SVTC history, I beat George Gillies by a second at the Mountain Valley Ten Miler. But here in blog history is the rest of the story.