Chapter 19 - Charlie Junior, the Runner

According to Boy: Charlie Junior was a genuinely nice person. He had only one fault—he kicked my butt running. I ran every day, often twice a day. I would run five miles in the morning before heading in to the university, and usually five more when I got home. Charlie usually ran with me in the evenings.

The only running mate I ever had who had a better kick than Charlie was Mister, my Norwegian Elkhound. If Mister saw a rabbit or a squirrel, he could cover fifty yards in about .5 seconds. Of course, that is an exaggeration. But suffice it to say, Mister could fly. Charlie could fly too, but not quite as fast as Mister.

Charlie was a junior or senior in high school when we started running together—I don’t remember which. At first, I did not even know he was a runner. Usually I would run alone, or with Mister. Finally, Charlie stopped me on my way out and asked if he could run with me. I was happy to have the company.

We jogged along 72nd Street, past Central and Edsall, until we reached what was then called the Lutheran Cemetery. We stopped there and stretched a bit.

"Whaddya usually do?" Charlie asked.

"Five. Four and a half at about six, and open it up the last half mile."

"Sounds good. Let me know when we’re gonna open it up."

We started out at a six-minute clip. Charlie had no problem with it at all. He was talking and joking as though we were just taking a casual walk. "This kid’s pretty good," I thought.

We moved up on four miles, and still Charlie was barely breathing hard.

At four and a half I asked him if he was ready.

"Sure."

I opened it up as fast as I could. Charlie looked like he had been shot out of a cannon. The five mile mark was the railroad tracks. He beat me by a huge margin—probably a hundred yards or more.

When I finally got to the tracks, Charlie was all bent over and breathing very hard. "I should have brought water," he said. "Mom usually sends water with me on a long run."

"Holy cow. Where did you learn to run like that?"

"I run track in school."

"What distance?"

"Fifty yard."

"You’re not a distance runner?"

"No. Mainly the fifty yard dash, and sometimes the 220 relay. I usually don’t open it up for a full half mile. But it felt good."

"You did pretty well on that five mile run. How do you usually train?"

"I usually run one mile, and then kick fifty at the end. Then another mile, and a fifty. The five miles was more than I’m used to. But it was probably good for me."

I asked him what his best time was, and he told me. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember being impressed.

Charlie and I ran together on a regular basis the summer of 1969. When school started for him, we stopped. His coach had him on a regular training schedule that did not allow for improvising. When the season got started I remember asking his father how track was going, and he told me that Charlie Jr. had set the record in the fifty-yard dash for all of the Catholic Schools in New York City. Charlie Jr. never let on just how good he was. The kid had a lot of character (or maybe his dad lied a lot). I’m just kidding about that. Charlie’s whole family had a lot of character. They were good people.