AS IF HEAVEN KNEW NOTHING

By Villages TLC member Rick Riddle
 
Editor’s note: During an outstanding record of track accomplishments over the years, Coach Rick Riddle has enjoyed many “Hey, I Can Do This!” moments. Yet these peak experiences ultimately took Rick, our club’s official Deep Thinker, to a place that will surprise you.   
Leah Rewolinski
The Villages TLC web wizard
 
 
Rummaging around inside the brain of an older athlete can be tricky. Webmaster Lady Leah should know better. Maybe the result of the rummage is clarity, or maybe it’s a dense fog of forgotten feelings and random incorrect reminisces.
 
Oh well, here goes. Leah asks, when did I first feel “Hey I Can Do This” about the sport of athletics? I have had that happen several times over the years. It happened when I made my first 100-meter final at a USATF National Championship. It happened when I first ran to an American Record at the Penn Relays with Houston Elite in front of 30,000 fans. It happened when I stood on my first USATF National Champs podium.
 
It happened when Dr. Seuss recognized me on the street. Wait, Kathleen says that didn’t happen – but I wish it had. Or when Kathleen, being married to me, was asked for her autograph because I was busy on the field below. (The fellow didn’t want to miss his plane.)
 
The awareness occurred on three separate World Record-setting relay teams, including one at the legendary Millrose Games in New York City; another in Boston’s Reggie Lewis Center, indoors on a brutally cold day; and the third indoors in Bloomington, Indiana. The realization also happened when I won an individual 400-meter National Championship, and again when I finished fourth in a 400-meter World Championship.
 
It all added up to where it began to lose meaning.
 
As I have grown older, the magic filter of self-awareness –  
A well-planned saving grace to failing speed –
Gifted me with a better answer to Leah’s meaningful inquiry.
 
Medals accumulated…and were forgotten.
Memories of past days began to fog.
Speed was no longer everything.
 
I realized it has always been about the people
Who took the trip alongside me
And cared about me always, win or lose
 
I wondered, is it possible
To avoid defining success
Only in terms of a time and a medal?
 
I asked myself,
Can I run with only joy
Expecting no other award?
 
Later I discovered that the joy of running fast
Was all I ever really needed
Moving as fast as I could through a turn
Then down the straightaway with abandon
 
As if it were recess in heaven
And heaven knew nothing of medals
Every joyful run blessed
With an absence of consequence
 
And on a beautiful clear day
In October of 2015
Alone on a track in Texas
With joy inside
 
I confirmed
Finally
“Hey, I Can Do This!”