Traditions are as strong in the country as they are in the richest cultures in the most opulent cities. In northern Wayne County, running, especially cross-country running, has a proud and well-preserved past. Celebrating this legacy of endurance, the Honesdale High School (HHS) cross-country team in collaboration with Wayne Memorial Community Health Systems hosted the 38th annual Dr. William Perkins Memorial Run. The race was open to all comers and consisted of a 5K, a mile run and a kid’s fun run. 

You might be asking about this time, “Hunter, what were you doing at a race?” or “Hunter, since when do you have time to run?” Excellent questions all. For context, I will divulge that my sister is a track and cross-country alumni from HHS and I used to run cross-country. 

Have I run since then? No. In fact I could not remember running even a mile in the past decade. 

Well, with the Perkins race coming up, my sister made plans to attend as she still competes as a professional runner in various ranked races throughout the East Coast. However, she is a social creature and managed to convince our aunt to come up from Florida to run as well. After some very unnecessary peer pressure, I agreed to partake too. 

As I stretched on the morning of the race and began jogging small spurts around the parking lot, I suddenly felt old—as I often do anymore when my body begins to throw blinking lights on my proverbial dashboard. 

As a running alumnus, I wanted to set some goals for myself. Don’t come in last, and if possible try to finish in under a half hour. Subtly I also wanted to make sure I beat my 53-year-old aunt from Florida as well, because I’m just not sure my ego was ready to concede that loss.

Now thoroughly doubting this whole affair, I headed to the starting line with my overly focused athletic sister and casually competitive aunt. Back in high school, I ran this race once or twice and if memory serves, I finished somewhere in the 21-minute range, give or take. My sister with her now lengthy experience was currently running these 5Ks around the 18-minute mark. As everyone gathered at the start, she looked intimidating and focused, poised at the front line, square in the middle of the track. 

Being her supportive brother I called out her nickname over everyone, and whooped and hollered for her, just to break her focus and make her embarrassed. 

Before I knew it though, the gun was raised and the race was off. I found my groove after the first half mile or so and settled in, trying to push as far as I thought I could get away within my non-practiced state. I soon left my aunt behind but was very aggressively left in the dust by my sister, who finished the first mile no less than three minutes ahead of me. 

That first mile came slow, but the second was right on time. By the time the last half mile came up, I knew I was going to make it. I held my pace and never walked, which was as much a goal as it was a point of pride. I laid out my last bit of energy and finished strong, not counting the feeling of delirium from not properly hydrating. 

All said I finished with a time of about 26 minutes and 40 seconds. Not my best time, but for some reason it surprised nearly all my otherwise supportive family members. I suppose they thought I was more out of shape or something. In any case, my time was enough to earn me third in my age class of 30- to 35-year-olds. 

My sister finished first overall for women, with a time of 18:04 and my aunt came in second for the 50-year-old women’s class, with a time of around 31 minutes. (Note I may be slightly off on these times; I’m just going by my best recollection.)

It was nice to sit down after that and rest for a few minutes before they announced the mile race and then the fun run, which my kids decided to participate in. I decided to accompany them, along with my wife and sister and aunt, who made it a team effort to encourage through any means necessary the little track stars as they ran half the track at the fairgrounds. After many tiny little steps, they both made it and beamed with pride that they did.

The way out here, some of us farmers don’t just run from the ornery bull in the pasture. Every so often we take it upon ourselves to do a little self-diagnostic and double-check where we stand compared to our high school selves. In the words of the late Toby Keith, “I’m not as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.”