I just completed Dick Beardsley’s recently completed memoirs about his life, which has been mostly consumed by running. Like many running tales, there is that particularly intriguing anecdote of what drove that person into running. Beardsley goes out for football, because the athletes in his school were the ones that got all the girls. At six feet and 130 pounds, that dream ended quickly, but a friend convinced him to go out for cross-country, and he spent all season working his way up to the Varsity squad. In the end, he got his letterman’s jacket, and “asked one of the cheerleaders [to the prom]. And she said yes!”
The first half of the book involves Beardsley’s running career, from high school to junior college to getting started in marathons. His writing style (along with co-writer Maureen Anderson) is folksy, very easy to read and not burdened with the technical or physics side of running.
You make a journey with him, watching his times steadily improve, and remembering (or looking forward to) that time in your running career. Then you move through his struggles and worries, and loss of confidence when he didn’t run so well: “The Falmouth race is… about 7.1 miles. … I went out way too fast, destined to fade. Which I did. I finished in about thirty-five minutes. Any other race, that would have been respectable – five-minute pace and all.” Whoa. Hold on! Now I’m a little insulted, as that I once could maintain a 5:20 pace for 200 yards! You never once get the feeling that Beardsley knows what a great gift for running that he has.
His journey continues, leading up to the London Marathon, where he is reviled for tying for first…
OK, maybe he DOES realize that speed and winning isn’t everything! ... And on to the Stockholm Marathon, where his streak of 13 consecutively improved marathons (see Guinness Book of World Records) ended. Finally, he runs the Boston Marathon in 1982.
This is probably the best chapter in the book. If you can look past the fact that you will never be able to run anything close to his times, it is a really great blow-by-blow account of the highs and lows before, during and after a marathon. His battle with eventual winner Alberto Salazar was one of the most dramatic duals in Boston history.
Following his 2nd-place finish, the story gets less exciting: he reached his goal of running Boston, and now everything seems anticlimatic. He’s achieved a bit of fame, and so gets the chance to run at a number of different events around the world, but doesn’t live up to his own expectations. It’s hard to read (especially when his disappointments would be 90 minute marathon PRs for me!), but that’s the reality for most runners – in the beginning, the improvement is fast and constant, and when it tapers off, it’s VERY hard to find the motivation to continue.
In 1989, the story takes a turn that was totally unexpected – Beardsley nearly loses his leg in a farm machinery accident, but works his way back to some kind of running shape (OK, so it’s 6:30 pace, but you have to imagine a 9-minute miler running 13-minute miles!), and within a year was named the RRCA comeback runner of the year.
The crux of this accident (and a number of subsequent accidents) is that he gets addicted to pain medication – he begs for it, steals it from his father (who has cancer), and begins creating his own prescriptions for pills. For beginning and non-runners, this addiction is hard to understand. You want to tell him to just stop running and live up to your problem. For running addicts, it’s not that easy. I have recurring bouts of plantar fasciitis, and for six months, I took 4 Advil a day, every day, so I could continue running. Rest was not an option. I rarely take any medication now, because I realize that the pain is just a message from my body that I need to take a break.
In the end, he gets arrested, serves out probation (and gives talks about his addiction) and goes through a lengthy withdrawal and continuing struggle for sobriety. He still runs, albeit much slower than before (a 2:55 marathon), and takes his life one day at a time.
Staying the Course brought out many different emotional responses for me: Understanding, as I see the same addiction to running; Awe, as I realize that his times are world-class and I’m not sure I can listen to any advice he gives on running; Disgust, as he complains about not running his best (I’ve learned to be positive about every race because there’s always someone who aspires to your “not-so-good” time); Laughter, as I realize that everyone has their funny stories about racing; Dismay, as I watch his addiction cycle; and Satisfaction, as I find that he is doing something about his problem.
When I finished the book, I had mixed feelings about how to review it. After reading Deborah Reber’s book about beginning running for women, I was ecstatic, because it mirrored my beginning running experience. Dick Beardsley’s book didn’t mirror anything for me. Especially when he says stuff like “It felt like I’d been walking, [my pace was] 5:18 [per mile]!” Those sort of comments make you feel less sympathy when all is said and done; but then I let his story sink in, and I realized it’s all relative. On the one hand, Beardsley’s running history is intriguing, and on the other, his account of his addiction will alert someone to avoid that same path. All stories pass on something valuable, be it a lesson or a fun story. Staying the Course does both.
If you are interested in reading Staying the Course: A Runner’s Toughest Race, you can order a copy online at http://www.stayingthecourse.com