Back in the

days when I was in the Army, there was very little to compare with the

daily joy of running, except perhaps doing the inevitable pushups and

situps that went along with it.

I was pretty

good at it. My legs and arms were strong and my chest was closer to my

neck than my waist. Other soldiers would come up to me and ask my "secret"

to running faster and farther. I would tell them there was no secret that

to run faster you had to run faster and to run farther you had to run

farther. Inevitably and invariably, they would look at me as though I

had lost my mind. They refused to belive there was no secret no instant

success to running.

There wasn't

then and there isn't now when my legs and arms are not nearly as strong

and my chest has migrated southward. To run faster and farther you simply

need to run faster and farther.

The PTC Classic

is looming on the horizon (Oct. 14, my circled calendar tells me) and

it has been some time since I heeded my own running counsel. I have become

more like the dreaded couch potato than the lean and hungry gazelle I

once resembled. I know, from talking with former runners and wannabe runners

and never were runners that there are a lot of people just like me those

who know they should run, those who know they should want to run, and

those who believe they ought to convince themselves they want to run.

We are a fraternity whose number is legion.

So how to begin?

Well, the PTC Classic has three courses: two five-kilometer (3.1-mile)

races (one for men and one for women) for beginners, desultory runners

and returning runners and a 15-kilometer (9.3-mile) race for those who

have passed the hurdles of running to the nether regions. Most of the

people I know, myself included, do not belong in the longer category.

Most of us might be classified as running duffers or perhaps those not

quite that dedicated.

To borrow a

phrase from "The Sound Of Music," "Let's start at the very

beginning." If, like me, you plan to run the shorter course for the

Classic, begin with five running steps, or 10 or 20. It doesn't have to

be a lot. But it does have to be a start. And it's not a start tomorrow,

it's a start today. For most of us there has to be a time to run. It might

even be the time we would otherwise spend channel surfing while waiting

for the interminable commercials between Olympic sets on television.

No matter.

Just, as Nike points out, get out and do it. It won't feel real good at

first. Muscles that have gotten used to their sedentary ways will cry,

scream and moan in protest. And one of the sad facts of aging is that

the older we are, the longer the muscles will cry, scream and moan. We

won't be hurt, we'll just be sore (and yes, Virginia, there is an important

difference between the two).

But a small

run today will be followed by a longer (defined as one more step than

yesterday) run tomorrow and so on and so forth (along the way, remember

to find and fill out an entry form for the Classic).

Race day dawns

crisp, clear and clean and, with all your newfound enthusiasm and determination,

you wind your way to the start line and are confronted by a sea of lean

and hungry looking gazelles. It won't do much for confidence yours, mine

or ours. But you'll be there and that's the important thing. You may not

come in first overall or even first in your age group, but you'll come

in first in your heart and your mind, pushing yourself across the finish

line having run farther and faster than before and swearing you'll never

do it again.

Doug Martz,

53, who has been running off and on for the past 30 years and has completed

four Chicago marathons, considers himself a "trundler." He will

be running his second PTC Classic this year.

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