Students Run Oakland

A few months back some friends and I attended a screening of the film Runners High, a documentary that follows 4 Oakland teens as they train to run a marathon. The kids were involved with a group called Students Run Oakland, a non-profit organization that trains Oakland youth to run the marathon with the broader ambition of teaching these kids that there is nothing beyond their reach.

The film inspired me, and in a pique of magnanimity I decided to volunteer with SRO. "I can make a difference in these kids' lives," I said tremulously to Monte, the day I signed up. "You should have seen this movie. These kids show up to run in their street shoes, their blue jeans. Some of them have never run 2 blocks. First they don't think they can do it - and sometimes their parents don't think they can do it! - but by the end, when they finish the marathon, they know they can do anything they set their minds to!"

Monte regarded me carefully. "You're going to run a marathon?" he asked me.

"It'll be hard, I'm sure. But if these kids can do it, I can do it," I said confidently.

I am not a runner. Matter of fact, I was that kid in gym class who walked the 16 minute mile and still had to struggle not to throw up. I've been afraid of sports my whole life; they didn't come naturally to me and as a shy kid I was wary of team activities. The result was that I missed out on a lot. My fear held me back from trying new things and making new friends. That realization has been dawning on me over the last few years, and I've decided not to let my past dictate my future. I was something of a fearful kid, but that's not the kind of woman I want to be.

So I'm going to run this marathon.

I went to my first session of SRO some weeks ago and found myself keeping pace with a student named Sara on our first 2 mile run. I was prepared to administer guidance and support. But Sara schooled me quickly.

"Everybody in my family is heavy," she told me, "and they've all got diabetes. I don't want to get diabetes too. That's why I'm here. That's why I'm running."

"Wow," I said.

"The doctor told me I weigh a little too much, but I'm strong, you know? I don't eat junk food, I don't eat fast food. I used to have asthma, but I just kept on exercising and it went away."

"That's great," I encouraged.

"I was doing this with my friends," she continued. "And one my friends, he was like, 'I'm only here because of you.' And I said, 'Don't do it for me, do it for yourself.' Cause in the end we're all going to have to do it for ourselves, you know?"

I looked at Sara, running steadily toward the finish, and wondered just how I was supposed to be her mentor. I felt like asking her to give me some life advice.

The following week I met Yesica. She told me about her family's upcoming trip to Mexico.

"It's so, so fun!" she enthused. "We go once a year - no, once every other year. And we go for two weeks and it's just like a giant party. All of my family is there and we just eat and hang out and have a great time. I love it; it's my favorite thing!"

"That sounds incredible," I said.

"But this year I don't want to go."

"How come?" I asked her.

"Because I don't want to fall behind in school! Last year I was in the program and I did the whole thing - like, the whole thing, all the way up till the last run. But then my grades dropped and I wasn't allowed to do the marathon."

"Wow, that must have been hard," I said.

"It was," she agreed. "But this year my grades are pretty good and I don't want to mess up again. I want to keep doing good so that I can graduate and run the marathon."

OK. Another teen who apparently needs no guidance from me. I told her to keep up the good work and went looking for a less fortunate kid.

The trouble is, I can't seem to find one. All these kids are well-adjusted and smart and fast runners. I realized just how fast upon my return from vacation - and three weeks behind in my own training.

This past Saturday we did a 7 mile run. It was supposed to be 5.5 miles - that's what I was prepared for - but due to the fact that the marathon has been pushed up by several weeks, we're now working on a condensed training schedule. So I went to last weekend's run jet-lagged, out of practice, and admittedly hungover. (Cut me some slack; Friday was my last day at work.)

Half a mile into the run I was hurting. Most of the kids had shot ahead of me and were little figurines in the distance. But that was normal; I keep a slow pace and usually do the first part of the run on my own. It's after the kids peter out that I'm able to scoop a few up and convince them to run steady and slow. Most of these kids maintain that they cannot slow down, but they exhaust themselves after a couple of minutes. I run like a little old lady, but I can go for several miles.

Usually. But Saturday was a struggle. I thought about copping out at the water stop and claiming illness (which wasn't too far from the truth, with the alcohol still sloshing through my veins). But instead I slowed my pace even more and glommed onto a couple of kids who were walking.

"Hey!" I said brightly. "Are you guys practicing the 5 minute rule?"

The 5 minute rule is supposed to keep the kids from walking the entire course. The rule is: Run 3 minutes, walk 2 minutes. Once you've got that under your belt you can progress to the 10 minute rule, which is: Run 7 minutes, walk 3 minutes. It really works. I know, because it's the same rule I use to bribe myself.

The kids looked at me warily. "I guess so," one of them said, even though none was wearing a watch.

"Great!" I said cheerfully. "I'll time you!" Seeing that I was not to be deterred, they grudgingly started to run.

And instantly I was eating their dust. "One minute!" I called out from behind them. "Two minutes! Good job guys! Three minutes!" As soon as I called 'three' they stopped dead in their tracks, determined not to run a second longer than they had to.

I caught up with them, still jogging slowly. "You guys are doing great!" I told them. "Now do you think you can run a little slower, like me? And maybe you won't need to stop so often?" They looked at me with blank faces. "No? OK, cool. Well, let's do it again. Ready, set, run!"

Again they took off and I was left in their wake. I trotted along behind them for countless 3-minute sessions, but these kids did not want to talk to me. I tried not to take it personally. I skipped along beside them during their 2-minute walks and peppered them with good-natured questions: "What school do you go to? All of you? What grade are you in? All of you?" They answered with as few words as they possibly could. Eventually I started feeling like an idiot, but I kept up my cheerful demeanor.

With about 2 miles to go, one of the kids really took off. He ran so far ahead that he didn't hear me call '5 minutes' (we'd worked our way up to 5). I was impressed but I was also dismayed. My whole body hurt. I was desperate to be done with the run, and I'll admit - I was calling time earlier and earlier just to keep up with the kids. A few times they ran right out of earshot and I had to crank it up to get back in their time zone. I was feeling light-headed and achy, and remembering every drink from the night before with acute clarity.

And then it was over. I felt like collapsing on the sidewalk, but the kids didn't look any worse for the wear. I don't even think they were sweating. I gathered my 3 students around me. "Hey you guys," I panted. "You just ran 7 miles. Can you believe it?"

They blinked at me.

"I am really proud of you," I persisted. I looked them each in the eye and tried to hold them in a meaningful gaze, but they just looked at the ground. "Really proud of you," I said again. "Shoot, I'm really proud of me!"

And there it was - a smile! From 2 out of 3 of them. How about that!

Then they turned around and walked away.

"You're going to want to stretch," I called out to their backs. "Or you'll be hurting tomorrow."

Truer words were never spoken. Wish I'd heeded my own advice.