Runner Up: Todd Rogers

An Old Man and His Son
By Todd Rogers

We will never be the same. The completion of the Windermere Half Marathon was much more than a 13.1 mile run for me and my son Jon. It was more than the achievement of a goal; it was a milestone in the life of two people.

In April of 2008, my 16-year-old son and I were preparing to participate in a Boy Scout high adventure program in Florida. The program required that all participants were 250 pounds or less. This presented a problem – not for me, but for my son. He was over six feet tall but tipped the scales at 258 pounds. He has always been active and agile, yet carried too much weight. The directors of the program waived the requirement since he was able to demonstrate that his weight did not prevent him from performing all of the necessary tasks of the program. But that was it: Jon had had enough. Though he was very popular, well liked, and excelled academically, his self-image was suffering. Jon embarked on a journey of wellness. He modified his diet and started a very strict workout program. It was not long before the results began to show. They were demonstrated not only by the physical changes that were slowly but surely taking place, but by the emotional and psychological changes.

On the other hand, there’s me. I will be 50 this year. Not over the hill, but not a spring chicken either. I have always made an effort to maintain a good level of fitness, whatever that means. I was five feet 11 inches tall and tipped the scales at about 195 pounds. One day last winter, a guy at the gym was handing out flyers for the Windermere Marathon and Half Marathon. After several days of consideration, I approached Jon with a proposition. I suggested that he and I run the half marathon together. He embraced the challenge, and our fitness journeys merged.

Through the rest of the winter, which as you know was longer than usual, we prepared on our own. Jon continued with his careful eating and regular trips to the gym. I continued to go the gym, but was not so careful with the eating. When the spring weather finally allowed us to run outside, we did our weekly long runs together. Jon struggled in the beginning when we hit the seven- and eight-mile marks. When we ran over ten miles, I would have to encourage him for the last few. We put in our time and made the necessary preparations. We felt ready.

As the day of the run approached, we were a little nervous but quietly confident that we would manage. Jon had grown some; now he was over 6 feet 3 inches tall, and weighed just under 190 pounds – yes, 190. He had lost 70 pounds and grown an inch. The only thing that stayed the same was his size 15 shoe. I’m not chopped liver – I lost five pounds. (I didn’t grow any, though).

The day of the run, we arrived with a group of six of our friends, ranging in age from mid-twenties to one old man of 49 (me). Jon and I started well back in the pack. We were farther back than all of our friends. The mass of people moved very slowly and we watched as the people we knew stretched out farther and farther ahead of us. The temperature was perfect, nice and cool, with clear skies. Jon and I kept what felt like a good pace. I joked with him that anyone could run 13.1 miles in a size 9 shoe, but doing it with a size 15 shoe would be a real FEET. The fourth, seventh, tenth, and eleventh miles were important, because those were the miles where we passed the other members of our group of six.

After mile nine I was exhausted, but Jon seemed to have no limit of reserve energy. I encouraged him to leave me in the fetal position along the way, but he would not do it. He reminded me that we had started this journey together and we would finish it together. That is exactly what we did. We finished in 1 hour, 52 minutes. I believe that Jon was the youngest male and possibly the youngest person to run the half marathon.

I cannot begin to express how it makes a father feel to be so close to a transformation in one of his children. I love this boy, and I always have, and always will for that matter. The experience of seeing him blossom and watching his self-image change for the better is one of the most rewarding I have ever had. In the race photos, if you look for bib #2499, you’ll see an old man – and that good-looking young man with him is his son.