"The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time." - Terance Mann (James Earl Jones), Field of Dreams
As many of you know, I just love baseball. From the time I was about 8 years old and my father brought me to the old Polo Grounds in New York to see the Giants play the Cincinnati Reds, I've been hooked. You have to remember that when I was 8, all TV was black & white, so when my dad and I emerged from the dank, dark, beneath-the-stands tunnel to our upper deck section, all I remember to this day was how very bright green the grass was and how fiery red the sleeves, hats, and socks were on the Reds uniforms. It was better than fireworks on the 4th of July.
As the years have flown by Opening Day to Opening Day, baseball has been the one constant of my whole life. My allegiance has wavered from the Giants (who doomed themselves to damnation forever by moving to San Francisco in 1958) to the Amazing Mets, who were the worst team ever in baseball until they collectively sold their souls to the devil and won the World Series in 1969, to my current addiction, the Boston Red Sox. As a child, I always rooted for the Sox, because my dad always taught me to be kind to others, but more importantly, hate the Yankees! And if you hate the Yankees, you root for the Sox. Why? Because they absolutely, positively, without a doubt, hate each other.
So, what does this have to do with running? Well, having been a long distance runner for decades, one of my pleasures is to be able to lace up a pair of running shoes and go explore, whether it be in the woods or the jungle of a city's concrete, asphalt, and steel. As the fates would have it, many years ago, my son got married, has 2 great children, and he and his wife moved to Boston. So, with frequent visits to Beantown, I get to often run to, and around, Fenway Park, along with the attached obligatory run to cross the Boston Marathon Finish Line (which as you know, is ALWAYS painted there on Boylston St).
Recently, I came across an article about the beginnings of professional baseball in Boston and decided to take my Hokas on a trip into the past. So, on a cold, December, Boston morning, I headed out to try to find the sites of the long ago demolished homes of Boston's two initial professional baseball teams.
My first search took me to look for the site of the long gone South End Grounds. It was a beautiful stadium built in 1874 and was the home to Boston's entry into the National Association (which became the current National League). Apparently, they had an identity problem as they rifled through many names in 40 years...Red Stockings, Beaneaters (yep!), Red Caps, Doves and finally the Braves (which eventually, after a stop in Milwaukee, became the Atlanta Braves). They played at The Grounds till 1914. The Grounds had a castle look to it and must have been quite stunning in it's day.
Looking from centerfield, it was still quite the park:
I looked up the layout of the old park and found out home plate was on the corner of Columbus Avenue and St. Cyprian's Place. Hard to find - not exactly a shrine, and I doubt many folks living on this alley realize they reside on a historical parcel of land. Not a very honorable site these days. This would be looking from home to centerfield:
About half a block towards what would be left field, is the Ruggles Street T stop (subway stop). Inside this cold, dark station is the ONLY reminder of this grand ballfield, and even this "remembrance" has a few inaccuracies:
The T stop is actually at what used to be the railroad yard bisecting the city. It was just beyond the leftfield wall of the Grounds. We'll get back to the Braves journey in a little bit, but first there was another site less than home run's distance away.
Literally, on the "other side of the tracks" was another stadium, The Huntington Avenue Grounds, built in 1901, and was the home to the American League Pilgrims, Americans, and FINALLY, the Red Sox until 1912. The most amazing fact about this stadium to me was the centerfield wall was 635 feet from home plate! Lots of room for the centerfielder to get lost out there. This was definitely NOT the stadium where Home Run Baker got his name.
The site of the Huntington Grounds is now engulfed by the campus of Northeastern University. Running through the narrow campus roadways and walkways around the university academic buildings and dormatories, I was on a mission. I had read that SOMEWHERE on campus is the site of home plate of the very first World Series (1903) and a statue of Hall of Fame pitcher Cy Young. I remembered it was close to Churchill Hall, wherever that was. After much retracing my footsteps (more mileage), I almost missed it as it was just sitting smack dab in the middle of a small patch of grass, and 60'6" away was the statue of ol' Cy (you have to look close...really close):
Leaving the Huntington Grounds in 1912, the newly-named Red Sox moved about a mile north to their present home, Fenway Park. As the 2nd oldest professional baseball stadium in the United States (behind Birmingham's Rickwood Field), it's not only an icon, but a shrine to Red Sox Nation. I circumnavigated the stadium, paying homage to the 2018 World Series Champs - take that Yankees!
Now, I had one more destination for these running legs to take me to complete my personal baseball odysey. Remember the Braves playing in the South End Grounds? Well, they were a terrible team year after year, but then in 1914, in the last 8 weeks of the season, the "Miracle Braves" became a legend, storming from 15 1/2 games behind. As they made their pennant push, the South End Grounds was too small for the tremendous crowds of fans, so for the last month of the season, they shared Fenway with Red Sox. The Braves won the pennant, beat the heavily favored Philadelphia A's for the 1914 World Series Championship, and never played at the South End Grounds again.
In 1915, the Braves moved a couple of miles west to a brand spanking new stadium aptly called Braves Field. Here they would play until 1953 when they high-tailed it for Milwaukee, and just 13 years after that, they again pulled up the moving vans and wound up in Atlanta. So, my last objective was to find the site of old Braves Field.
Turns out it's smack dab in the middle of the Boston University campus. It was the first stadium in the country to seat more than 40,000 fans (although the Braves went back to being terrible again and could have went back to their old place). In 1954, Braves Field was unceremoniously demolished, except for the old ticket office:
...and the old baseball field was torn up and is now the University's soccer/ lacrosse field. However, the rightfield bleachers were refurbished and are still being used today:
Mission accomplished! And so, on a cold, windy morning in Boston, I used my gift of running to travel back to a time whose DNA found it's way to a little 8 year old boy in New Jersey and continues in a 71 year old little boy in Alabama. I connected the dots of Boston Baseball first hand and took it Running With Al.
I'll see you on the roads or trails -Al
Iceland is a tough place, man. When they have a good summer that means there has been more than eleven sunny days. And it can turn in a drop of a hat, the weather. It was pretty extreme ... It was very challenging but so, so beautiful. If you have a chance in your life to go and look at the sights and feel the culture of Iceland, do it,” - Russell Crowe, actor
So, what happened in August?...
Well, I go out to the mailbox one Saturday and there, like a punch to the gut, is a Jury Summons! I stood there staring at it, saying in a low , gravely voice, Oooooh noooo! I don't actually mind the idea of doing my Civic Duty, but it's 1) not something I really want to do, based on previous experiences of sitting and being rejected for 2-3 days and then being told "we don't really need you anymore", and sent home, and 2) my job is such that it is very difficult to find coverage when I am out.
So, first thing Monday morning, I send out a few texts to other therapists to see if I could get any coverage. Then I get on the phone to "Jury Central" and prepare myself to sound as pitiful as possible and try to plead my case to be excused. I had heard it is now nearly impossible to get excused without actually going down to the Courthouse and begging in person to some sympathetic judge why even though I love the democratic process, it would do immeasurable harm to the well-oiled wheels of Economic Society if I was sucked out of the work environment:
Them: Courthouse. Can I help you?
Me: Good morning ma'am. How are you?
Them: Fine. Can I help you?
Me: I need to talk to some (kind) person about getting excused from Jury Duty.
Them: Why do you need to be excused?
Me: I'm a Physical Therapist and it's awfully hard to find coverage and my (happy) patients can't be treated.
Them: Ok, we'll strike you.
Me: (Incredulously) That's it?
As soon as I got off the phone, I almost immediately saw that I had texts and I had coverage for 3 days! Now I had a week off that I hadn't planned for. So, I tell my wife, who is happy that we'll have some vacation time, but we don't have any idea what to do or where to go. After about a week or so of no idea, I say "What about Iceland?". Her facial expression is along the lines of "huh?". You see, I absolutely HATE cold weather, and here I am suggesting that in the middle of a perfectly good HOT Alabama summer, we pack up and go to ICEland. Crazy, right? Turned out to be a great vacation and not nearly as cold (or rainy) as expected.
I won't go into a detailed description of the trip, but here are some of the highlights:
-- ALL HOT WATER IS NATURAL...Iceland is the only country in the world that can claim to obtain 100% of it's heat and electricity from renewable sources. Geothermal water is heated deep in the ground due to the fact that Iceland sits on a gigantic fault line between North America and Europe that is responsible for 140 volcanoes (not all active) and the country being very earthquake prone. Geothermal water is used to heat 90% of Iceland's homes, and most of the hot water in the country is tapped through boreholes (where the water can be boiling) and transported through pipelines to the cities and houses. No hot water heaters! Hot water smells like rotten eggs because of the Sulpher Dioxide in the water. Can't drink it! All through the country, you see thick steam coming from these cracks in the earth. Some places it looks like a scene from "The Day the Earth Ended".
--NO TIPPING....The prices in Iceland are high, but there is absolutely no tipping...taxis, restaurants, hotel, tour driver, anywhere! So, you basically save 15-20% right there! I must admit, I did feel rather guilty.
--10,000 WATERFALLS...They are everywhere. Beautiful 200-300 foot falls. Absolutely gorgeous. Did I say they're everywhere?
--EVERYONE SPEAKS ENGLISH...all children are taught English in school from age 10 through High School, which goes to age 19-20. Amongst themselves, they speak Icelandic, which is basically the language of the Vikings and impossible for a southerner originally from New Jersey to even attempt to stumble through. Remember the volcano that erupted in 2010 in Iceland that shut down European air travel for 2 weeks? It's name is Mt Eyjafjallajokull. I rest my case!!
-- ICEBERGS AND GLACIERS...when I was in grade school a hundred years ago, we learned about glaciers, but it was like learning about Mars - it was pretty abstract. I mean, a solid river of ice so big and so heavy, it moves due to it's own weight hundreds of miles (or even thousands in an ice age) and literally destroys everything in its path, carving the shape of the landscape. When it reaches water, it breaks off in pieces, and ta-da, you have icebergs. Some are gigantic (the Titanic mean anything?). To see these boyhood curiosities was magnificent. Glaciers cover 11% of Iceland's ground surface and the one pictured in the backround below is bigger than Kentucky!
--BEER...love my beer, and Stout beer in particular. I always say Lite beer is just for people who like to pee. Anyway, found me a friend, and so did Wendy, at The Drunken Rabbit.
--BLACK BEACHES...Alabama has the most beautiful pristine white beaches you could ever find, and I've seen pink beaches in Bermuda, but in Iceland, when the glaciers grind all the volcanic lava to fine dust, you wind up with black beaches. Pretty cool!
--SHEEP...ok, no big whoop. Sheep are everywhere, but in Iceland , sheep are literally EVERYWHERE. Around May or June, all the sheep farmers let their sheep (and wild horses) loose to roam free all over the country to go and get fat. Wherever you go away from the towns, there are grazing sheep. Come Autumn, in a huge holiday-like celebration, the herders roundup ALL the sheep and determine who belongs to who by their ear markings (the sheep, not the herders).
--FINALLY RUNNING...Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to run too much while there. Running around the city of Reykjavik presented a little problem in that you don't just try to remember the street names so eventually you can find your way back to the hotel.
...however, you will see some beautiful scenery in the early morning (gets light by 5)
...and artwork and sculptures all over the city
And best of all...there are NO SNAKES in all of Iceland. That gets them the instant Al Seal of Approval.
And so, a week that was supposed to be spent sitting on some metal chair outside some jury room in Birmingham, Alabama transformed into a vacation in a wonderful country that even a month ago never crossed my mind of visiting. Like MC Hammer said..."Life comes at ya fast".
I'll see you on the road and trails - Al
I don't mind growing old. I'm just not used to it. (Victor Borge)
Well, it's hard to believe it's been over 2 years since I've written a RWA post. I used to crank these out weekly, and enjoyed doing them because I like running and I like writing so I just figured I would combine the two and see if I could get somebody to read whatever I could figuratively put down on paper. After (just about) 2 years of weekly posts of my doings and thoughts, I just sorta hung it up for a while because the brain had run dry and I didn't want to subject those few of you that were reading RWA to my dwindling mileage and whining that even I hated. However, I continued running and I would occasionally run into other runners on the road, or on the trail, who would sometimes ask "When are you going to write RWA again?". My answer would usually be "My running isn't interesting enough". You see, gradually, I just got slower, my miles decreased significantly, and although I still would get out there and enjoy it, there was literally nothing new. I'd still race some, but I usually don't like to write race reports, especially when it's not really a "race", but a trot in the woods at the same time a lot of other runners are trotting much faster way ahead of me. So, RWA took a nap.
Anyway, just for fun, as this month marks my 40th anniversary of consistent running, I thought I'd take a stab at writing a celebratory post of what's been going on with Al (at least in the running world)...and see if anybody reads it.
In a nutshell, I have always been active growing up living in New Jersey. In High School, I played soccer and baseball. I loved those sports (still do), but the one aspect I HATED was the running. It was punishment..."Hey DiMicco, you're out of position. Take a lap", "Hey DiMicco, you let that ball go through your legs. Take a lap". "Hey DiMicco, don't swing at pitches over your head. Take a lap". My defense at that last dig was I wasn't tall, so the pitch was closer to the ground than other player's heads. Had to take another lap for being a smartass. Well, I never played enough to earn a High School letter (do they even still have those?). So, comes the last sports season of my senior year and I knew if I went out for baseball again, I'd just sit on the bench. I knew I could run (if I had to), so I went out for track. That's like somebody who hates cold weather moving to Alaska! Anyway, at first I ran the 440 (this was the 60's, so this was yards, not 400 meters) and then the 880. I couldn't believe some guys that actually ran a mile...at one time...without stopping or throwing up! I hated the 440 because it was like four 100-yd dashes tacked together without a break. I did ok for about 300 yards, and then my legs started screaming "I can't breathe". Compared to that torture, the 880 was a long distance endurance event that I could pace a little, so I "enjoyed" it more. I got the letter...gave it to a girl...broke up with the girl...got the letter back...not sure where it is now.
Now, we fast forward through the next 15 or so years. Moved to Birmingham, Alabama. Went to Physical Therapy School, got married, had a son, worked, and generally tried to stay active but consumed more calories than I burned, and developed a significant "pudge" (50 pounds worth). Then, on August 4, 1978, my mom passed away. Four days later, I found myself on the UAB track...not sure why. It just seemed like running might help my pudge and get my mind settled. I ran one mile on that rectangle track and felt pretty good about myself. "That wasn't too bad. Let's run another one!!". No problem...the next day I couldn't walk! And so my running journey began.
It was a rather rapid progression with my running with 10k's (no 5k's in the 70's) and a half marathon or two. Then, 14 months after that first UAB mile, I ran the old Vulcan Marathon. I did 3:14 and was hooked. The real transformation came about in '81 when I amped my mileage up and for some god-forsaken reason did the Mississippi 50 mile Run in Leland, Miss...36 times around a 1.37 mile park loop!! 6 weeks later I ran the Strolling Jim 41.2 Mile Run in Tennessee. Hard to explain the high I got from pushing myself to go distances I never dreamed of. I was having a party...I just don't know who invited Father Time to my party!
I don't want to go into the whole running history (that's even boring to me), but, thus far, I've done 151 marathons/ultras, run almost 86,000 miles, did Boston 5 times, seven 100 mile runs, and run from point A to point B in many states and several countries. I've run in 5 decades, and if I make it 18 more months, I'll make six!
I've met the most friendly, kind, and giving people anybody could ask for. I've run for hours piled on hours and miles upon miles with groups that I've coached or Pace Groups that I've led in Marathons. I've run for hours piled on hours and miles upon miles with some great friends where we talked and laughed for many hours. And I've run for hours piled on hours and miles upon miles where it was just me...all were wonderful.
I've pushed to what I thought was the outer fringes of my limit, and I've constantly found those fringes had new limits. David Goggins (a former Navy Seal who I have followed for years) says when you think you've reached your limit, you're about 40% done. I used to think that was pure garbage, but his mantra pushes me even now...that along with MY mantra for 40 years...Every Step Is a Step Closer.
When you're older than the Harry Truman administration, maybe things are catching up. When you've run more miles than 3 times around the Earth, maybe things are catching up. When you've averaged almost 4 marathons/ultramarathons per year for 40 years, maybe things are catching up. All I can say is "Well, shoot!"...I don't like things catching up!
My current mile pace for one mile on a flat paved road is SLOWER than the pace I've run 100 miles in the past! Geez!!!!
So, where am I now? I still love to get out on the trails on an early morning. Well, you know what? A 15 minute mile is still as far as a 7 minute mile, and an hour is still 60 minutes, and a 50k is still 31 miles! So, I take that 15 minutes to run that mile, use up all those 60 minutes to fill the hour, and watch those 31 miles roll by slowly on my GPS. Yes, things take longer, but the alternative is don't do it, and that ain't gonna cut it.
Yeah, it's harder to get through those long runs because you just don't glide through them anymore. I think one of the things I miss most are the stray thoughts I would have while running. I could solve all the problems in the world while running, but even in my younger days, by the time I finished my run, I forgot those solutions. Running takes a lot more effort now, and it doesn't give my mind a chance to wonder....watch that root, run through that creek instead of jumping it, here comes a hill, walking feels good, etc.
I don't really train anymore. My pace is the same no matter what. When a race is coming up, my emphasis of training is getting familiar with the course. That doesn't always work because when "raceday" comes along, I don't know what's in store. Somedays my body responds by moving forward fairly smoothly and somedays it's "failure to launch".
I still love to get involved in a "race" (God knows I need another shirt), but I look for races with HUGE cutoff times, get the geriatric "early start", or run the (one-loop) shorter distances and race the guys doing the full two-loop distance. I hardly run roads anymore, but love to be on a trail with runable hills. If I'm on a course with these killer inclines, I know I look like those Discovery Channel clips of guys about to summit Everest...take a step, pant pant pant, take a step, pant pant pant. I've learned to talk to myself a lot, as in "What the hell are you doing?".
So there we are with the current state of Running With Al...much less ultras, much less miles, much less zip in the legs. But, I have just as much addiction to the sport, if that's what you want to call it, and just as much gratefulness for being able to lace 'em up a couple of times a week and get my Hokas dirty, get myself sweaty, and no matter how slow I am, I'm still Running With Al.
I hope to find some things interesting enough to write about at least monthly...we'll see. Glad I'm back, but I never really went anywhere. Meanwhile, I hope to see you all on the roads and Trails - Al
