The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current, May 01, 1978, Image 9

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    THE BATTALION
MONDAY, MAY 1, 1978
Page 9
sports
Aerobics teacher wins marathon
Battalion
Classified
Call 845-2611
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By KEVIN PYLE
The second annual Texas A&M
Marathon was run Saturday with
over a thousand contestants jam
ming the streets of the campus. The
event, sponsored by the Health and
Physical Education Department,
began shortly after 7:30 a.m. when
Dr. Carl Landiss, head of the de
partment, fired the gun signaling
the start.
The event had men’s and wo
men’s competition in age groups
ranging from 14 and under to 56 and
over. Runners could run either a
quarter, a half or a full marathon,
which was 26 miles and 385 yards.
The winner of the marathon was
Tinker Murray, a graduate student
in cardiac rehabilitation at Texas
A&M. The 26-year-old from League
City ran the course, which wound
around and through the A&M cam
pus, in a time of 2:41:22.4.
Murray was pleased with the win
but not with his time. He said he
had hoped to run it in about two and
a half hours.
Murray, an aerobics teacher who
Tinker Murray first to finish 26-mile marathon. Battalion staff photo
runs 10 miles a day during the week
and 20 miles on either Saturday or
Sunday, said he just tries to concen
trate on running when he is compet
ing. He described the race as “nice
and scenic but a little windy.
For Murray, it was his second win
in a marathon and a happy one as it
was his first race since he was hurt
earlier in the year.
Coming in second in the marathon
was 49-year-old Al Becken from San
Antonio. He was also the winner of
the 49-54 age group.
Becken, who runs with the San
Antonio Road Runners track club,
came in some nine minutes behind
Murray with a time of 2:50:51.
It was Becken’s fifth marathon of
the year and 37th of his career. He
said although he usually runs in the
2:40s, he enjoyed the race and the
course. “It was a good course and
one of the best monitored and
marked courses I have ever run on,”
he said.
Becken, a Civil Service employee
at Fort Sam Houston in San An
tonio, runs seven to eight miles a
day. He credited his sons with get
ting him started in running. His
sons ran track in high school and col
lege and he said that got him in
terested.
“I have been at it six years,’ he
said, “and, at my age, my problem
isn’t endurance, it is speed.
The first woman to cross the finish
line in the marathon was also a
member of the Road Runners. Mag
gie Rust, a 26-year-old radiology
technologist, had her best time ever
as she was clocked at 3:23:29.
She said she has been competing
for a year and this was her fifth
marathon. Rust also said she runs
between 75 and 80 miles a week.
Drawing more attention than any
of these people, however, was
nine-year-old David Reyna. The
youngster, running in his third
marathon, had his best time as he
crossed the finish line in 3:21:27.
David’s father, Eddie Reyna, a re
search scientist in the oceanography
department at Texas A&M, also ran
in the marathon but did not finish.
“David always beats his father,” said
Mrs. Reyna. She also said it was her
son’s fifth year of running and that
David and his father run together
about 65 miles a week.
David didn’t seem interested in
all of the fuss being made over him
as he seemed content to just eat an
orange his mother had given him.
There were a wide range of ages
in the event with the youngest
being a six-year-old girl and one of
the oldest being a 62-year-old man.
There were also some strange sights
in the event. For instance, there
was one character who ran the
marathon in a mask and two others
who fought off the boredom of the
long distance race by wearing head
phones.
In all, 939 people finished the
race with 192 completing the full 26
miles.
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A runner experiences marathon
By DOUG GRAHAM
Battalion Staff
There is a lesson to be learned when
M you have bpen smoked by a 9-year-
old kid in a marathon. Or when a
skinny little girl wearing glasses
blows you into the weeds. You
e learn, when a host of people pass
1 you, that marathon running isn’t for
the proud.
It is not for those who subscribe
to the “Win ethic, either.
It is for the competitively intro
verted who compete for love of
,C« sport, not the glory of defeating ri
vals.
That was the attitude I had to
f, St take. Since I had not trained for the
race, I had to depend on two princi
ples: there’s no alternative to finish-
ng, and if you must do it, then
enjoy doing it.
That was it. There was no way I
tnieii could frown at and intimidate those
ted | dry 26 miles before me. I had to
ioke, laugh, and play with the dis-
the
itsk
SlcIlG
id.
tance 1 was covering until, at the
end, I was finished. Most of the
runners looked professional in odd
nylon color combinations of shoes
and shortsj but Twore a rabbit’s foot
outfit: my khaki NMMI shirt,
cavalry brass, green GI socks, and
old high school gym shorts. My
electric green running shoes com
forted my feet, and I was fortified
with my patented orange juice and
half-a-jar of honey breakfast.
Though the breakfast served to
give me quick energy, the clothes
simply served as morale boosters.
Feeling good was the key to finish
ing the race, so no matter how unor
thodox I looked, I wore what I
wanted.
I only wanted to finish.
So did all of the quarter-, half-,
and full-marathon runners around
me. We whooped at the gun, and I
ran with a friend for the next three-
quarters of the marathon. I was a bit
bloated from drinking that full quart
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of orange juice before the start, and
could feel it rise until I covered al
most 15 miles.
After the first 5 miles, everything
settled into place. Feet, knees, and
heart and lungs started working to
gether; I had found my pace.
Meanwhile I made dumb wisecracks
or withdrew into my head to play
tunes or think.
It was peaceful, the continual
running. On and on and on. The
worst section was near the Swine
Center because way off in the dis
tance you could see exactly how far
you had to run. That was depress
ing.
After returning from the leg out
to the Swine Center, the crowd was
thinned out. Most of the half- and
quarter-marathoners were finished,
leaving the field to the rest.
My friend and I parted at the 20
mile mark, as I sought to better my
time. I crossed the pedestrian
overpass, hoofed on down the road,
and began to experience some of the
loneliness of a long distance runner.
I finally started overtaking
people. They were the broken
people, the walking, who were
mentally defeated, or those whose
muscles were knotted in cramps, or
whose ankles were so swollen they
couldn’t go on.
I finally hit the "Wall” at about 2?
*■*■•■*> *2*. f :
miles. It did not hit me suddenly,
rather it was a realization that
whereas, before I was feeling pretty
good, and was capable of moving
along, suddenly I had to grind it out
and push myself.
In short, I had run out of gas.
But I kept pushing. On and on, so
slow it almost hurt, I kept going, up
and over the overpass. I broke into a
slow-motion sprint, probably finish
ing in the lower 50 percent of my
class with a 4 hour and 3 minutes
time.
I had lost.
But I sure remember thinking I
had won as I walked from the finish
line. I was like so many others,
walking like an arthritic old man.
The next morning, still a little sore,
I woke up with no ribbon for
victory, or newspaper clippings to
keep in a scrapbook. I had not won
anything, but I think I won a bit of
self-knoweledge about what it is
possible for a human body to do.
That is a victory of sorts.
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