THE NEIGHBOR I NEVER KNEW

I owe a lot to a neighbor of mine at our home in Cupertino, even though I never knew his name or exactly which house he lived in. But one summer day he conveyed a very important message to me just by his actions, as I would see him day after day briskly walking lap after lap around the block. Actually, he was shaming me into action, and even though he wasn't aware of what he was doing, it worked.

In my garage sitting on top 0f my seldom-used table saw was my 0ld PRC racing wheelchair. It had been a gift from my old running friends the year after a motorcycle on which I shouldn't have been riding took a nosedive into a ditch and left me an L-1 paraplegic. It had allowed me for a time to "run" again, and I truly loved it. But, as time passed, and my friends stopped running for various reasons, so did I. And for eight years my racing chair and I gathered dust together. Oh, I stayed busy as a teacher, raising three children, and enjoying a wonderful relationship with my wife, Diane. But the big blue recliner in front of the TV was far too comfortable, and the waistline was growing bigger by the year.

So one day in late July I dragged down the old PRC, pumped up the tires and started around the block. I made four laps before turning into the driveway for a glass of lemonade. Within three weeks I was doing three miles, and by August I was up to five. Looking into the mirror was becoming more pleasant as I tightened my belt a couple of notches and my face became thinner.

In September that year I was joined two evenings a week by one of Diane's co-workers at the Harker School whom she told about my "running." Mike and I became great friends and our running conversations covered nearly every topic imaginable, usually lasting well into the evening as we joined Diane in the living room for an after-run beer.

We had never really considered our running times during our five-mile runs, even though we knew we were getting faster, until one evening as we turned up the street toward home Mike looked at his watch and said that if we really pushed it we could break fifty minutes. So we broke it, and from that point on, time became a factor. Soon we broke forty-five, and when we broke forty we celebrated with a pizza. I knew that there was a limit that I could do in the old PRC which weighed over thirty pounds. But I also knew that I couldn't afford one of the newer models. My times kept dropping, with sub-forties becoming more regular in a 10K race. I was even running some mid-thirties and decreased my times.

On the weekends and when I didn't run with Mike, I increased my mileage. I could tell that I was getting stronger. Then I began to look for some competition.

I first ran the San Jose Mercury News 10K in 1980, three months before my motorcycle accident. I ran it several times in the PRC from 1982 t0 1986. But from 1986 until the next summer the chair sat on on the top of table saw.

When the race announcement appeared in the Mercury News I sent my application immediately. I was pumped. Mike and I continued to train as the race day approached, and I became more confident that I could at least break forty-five minutes. I decided that was my goal. I felt it was realistic.

On race day I arrived at the starting line an hour early. I wanted to meet and talk to other wheelchair racers, ask them about their equipment and their training techniques, and to learn about the best ways to push.

It was there that I met Marty and Emily Ball. At the age of 50, Marty was at least four years older than me, yet he had won the Mercury News the previous year and was one of the favorites. Emily had won the previous year's women's devision, and as it turned out, she won again. I felt that I was in pretty good hands, and at only 46 maybe I could compete after all.

After looking over my chair, Emily asked me if I was interested in buying a new one. I said I was, but that price was a real consideration for me, and that I wasn't sure that I could afford one right then. She responded by telling me of a friend of hers who had one available at a reasonable price. And, I responded that if the price was right and the chair fit, I would certainly consider it. Her friend turned out to be Jerry Deets, one of the world's best wheelchair racers.

The Mercury News turned out to be the last race I ran in in the PRC. I bettered my goal by nearly five minutes at 40:16. Marty and the fast pack left me at the starting line and soon were out of sight. But I managed to stay within sight of Emily for most 0f the race and finished only slightly more than four minutes behind her.

It turned out that I ended up eighth in the field of sixteen. But it was a distant eighth. Yet, with the more than 7000 runners, I did quite well. My long time running able bodied friends and Mike were duly impressed.

On the following Saturday I saw Jerry Deets at the National Wheelchair Basketball Tournament regionals in San Jose. I bought a new racing chair from him, and made a new friend. It's the friendships that make sports fun, I guess.

In the years that followed I purchased another racing wheelchair and entered several races, including three marathons. When race sponsors began to age group the wheelchair division, it opened a new dimension for me. I won or placed in several events, earning medals and even some money!

The year 2002 proved to be a turning point in my riding when I purchased my first handcycle. I rode it so much that I wore it out and had to get a new one, which is the one I use today.

The neighbor who inspired me to race does not know this story and probably never will. I would like to share this with him to thank him for his contribution to my life.

To date, I have logged over 2500 miles, and am still going. I'd like to think that he would be proud.