I was never the big sports
jock. In Jr. High I didn't hate PE but
it was not my favorite class either. I
was just not good at basketball, football, soccer, softball, etc. or even at the fitness test we had to do each
term. I wasn't bad. I mean I understood
the basic rules to all of these sports and I could play them but I was just a
guy out there playing them trying not to look too clumsy doing it. I was not the very worst but I was probably
in the bottom half.
In last half of the 1978-79
school year (my 7th grade year) I started running. During the summer of 1979 I
ran several road races. At each of these
Races I got a race t-shirt. Since
t-shirts with just about anything printed on them were a pretty popular clothing item in Jr.
High, these race shirts became the back bone of my wardrobe. I also had to wear a white t-shirt for PE so
I rotated through 2 or 3 of the white Race shirts for my PE shirt. What this meant was that everyone in 8th
grade knew that I was a runner. We also
had to wear blue shorts as part of the PE uniform. While most guys had navy blue shorts, I and
maybe 4 or 5 other guys had light blue shorts.
One day near the beginning of
my 8th grade year the two PE coaches (Coach Parker and Coach McNaughton)
announced that each week (I want to say it was Tuesdays but I am not certain)
the whole class would do a timed mile run.
Finally something I was good at.
There was one class of about 40 guys for each Coach, so 80 guys
total. They did not have us run on the
track. I suspect this was because it would have been too hard keep track of how
many laps everyone had done. Instead
they had a mile course marked out around
the school grounds.
We took off running and for
once I was doing really well. I didn't
win but I finished in the top ten. For
me, being in the top ten in anything in PE was a new and a pretty exciting
experience. As I was walking around a
little, cooling down and feeling good about myself, one of the two 9th graders that were TAs for
the class approached me and said, "Hey Cannon, I saw someone cut through
the school instead of going around. He
was wearing light blue shorts so I think it was you because you never do this
good at anything. " Wow, I was not
feeling so good anymore. But I quickly
got mad. I really did run in the top 10
and I was not going to let this guy accuse me of cutting the course. Also, one mile was a pretty short distance
for me at the time. My normal runs were
between 3 and 10 miles at this point.
So, I told him that I had not cut the course and that if he would like
to run against me I would be happy to run again and that I was sure I could
beat him. (I'll admit this was an easy offer to make. The TA was a bit over weight
and was not wearing running gear. Class
was also going to be over in about 15 minutes so there was not really time to
run again.) At this point Coach Parker
came over and asked what the problem was.
The TA told his story about seeing someone in light blue shorts cutting
the course and that he thought it was me. He even had the nerve to repeat.
"He never does this good in PE."
This was enough for me to repeat that I would be happy to run against
him if he thought he could beat me. Now
if this had been a movie or a TV show
Coach Parker would have agreed that we should race. Then, in front of the other 80 guys I would
have run my second mile for the day. I
would leave the TA eating my dust and as he staggered across the finish line he
would have tripped into a convenient mud puddle and looked up at the camera
sweaty, dirty and sorry he had ever doubted me.
Instead Coach Parker said, "It wasn't Cannon, I saw it and it was
Barber over here. I'm already taking
care of it." That was almost the
end but the Coach did know I was a runner so he was nice enough to add,
"And if you guys raced Cannon would beat you."
Throughout that year we ran
each week and I consistently finished in the top 10 but never even in the top
5. I wondered about this and realized
that the guys who were still beating me were the guys who were at the top of
everything in PE. These were the natural
athletes who were just physically good at everything. Even though I had been running, one mile was
not enough distance for my training, at that point, to overcome their natural
ability. One of them was Mike
Wadman. Now Wadman was probably a nice
guy. I really didn't know him because we hung out with different people. Like
any other 8th grade guy though, he liked to hassle people when he got the
chance. He was never mean about it or
anything but he used to point out that I was supposed to be the runner but he
could still beat me at the mile run.
Well, by this time I figured that natural ability could only get a guy
so far so my theory was that if I could run 3 miles it would be enough distance
for my training to overcome his natural ability. Nobody likes to run except a
runner so he was probably not doing any real running except for the weekly mile
runs. I told him that I was a distance
runner and that the mile was too short.
If we ran at least 3 miles I could beat him. He laughed a little and I didn't hear much
more about it.
A couple of weeks before
school got out for the year the Coaches announced that instead of a mile run we
were going to run two miles. I was
actually pretty excited. This 2 mile
course was on the road and even included running up 800 North just west of the
school. A hill which was part of my runs several times a week. It was also a beautiful day for a run. I pushed myself a bit and came in Third! But
unfortunately Wadman came in Second. He
even approached me afterwards and pointed out that he beat me...again. All I could think to say was that I was
closer this time and that it still wasn't 3 miles.
I really figured that this
was the end of it. They had built a new
High School, Mountain View, and the next year I would be there as a Freshman
and Wadman, because he lived on the opposite side of State Street from me,
would be at Orem High. I really didn't
think I would ever see him again, let alone run against him again. But I was wrong. I did see him again and it
was at a Road Race.
It seems like every city in
Utah County has its own City Festival in the Summer. Orem has Summerfest, Pleasant Grove has
Strawberry Days, American Fork has Steel
Days and on July 24th Spanish Fork has Fiesta Days. All of these had a Road Race as part of the
celebration. On July 24th, since it was
also Pioneer Day in Utah, there were several Road Races. Mom, Dad, and I liked the Speedy Spaniard
Race in Spanish Fork that was part of the Fiesta Days celebration. Although it is now a 10K race, back in the
Summer of 1980 it was 5.5 miles. It was
a beautiful course through the back roads and farms of Spanish Fork, and it
ended on the parade route with the finish line at the City Park in the middle
of town. When we arrived that day (July
24, 1980) to register for the race I saw Mike Wadman in the crowd. Not only was he in the crowd but he was
wearing a race number. Now remember, my theory was that I could beat
Wadman in a race longer than 3 miles because he did not train for races so my
training would overcome his natural ability.
But who shows up and pays a $5 entrance fee to run 5.5 miles if they
have not been training? If he put
training with his natural ability I was going to have a real problem here. But, I figured, maybe he wouldn't see me or
notice me. I figured wrong. He did see me and the first thing he did was
walk up to me and say, "Well, Cannon, this race is longer than 3
miles." Well I couldn't tell him
that my boast that I could beat him in a race longer than 3 miles was based on the assumption that he
would not be training to run, so I just said "Yes it is. I should win this one."
Dad saw me talking to Wadman
and asked who he was. I told him the
story of the mile runs, the 2 mile run and my boast that I could beat him in a race
longer than 3 miles but that the boast was based on Wadman not really being a
runner. Dad, was always encouraging and
always a competitor so he told me we would just have to beat Wadman in the
race.
At this time in my running
career Mom and I were training for our first Marathon, the 1980 St. George
Marathon that would be run in October of 1980.
Dad had run the 1979 St. George Marathon and was training to run again
in 1980. While Mom and I were training to run about 9 minute pace for the
marathon and hoped to run under 4 hours, Dad was planning on breaking 3:30. I
usually worked out with Mom but had recently come to the point where I could run the shorter Road Races with
Dad at his faster pace.
Wadman was with another
runner that looked older than him. Not
old enough to be a parent. He
looked to me to be around college age. Maybe an older brother or just a running
buddy. When they shot the starting gun
Wadman and this other guy took off, fast.
After just a half mile they were far ahead of Dad and me and I wondered
if I should speed up to try to catch them and have a chance at beating Wadman. The problem was they were going really fast
and I was pretty sure that I could not keep up with them. Dad told me to just run my race. He said that I knew what a good pace was for
me and that you never knew what might happen in a race as long as 5.5
miles. Soon we could not even see Wadman
or his running partner and I was thinking I was going to lose to Wadman yet
again. I wondered if I could figure out a way to explain my training v. natural
ability theory without it sounding like
an excuse. I decided that I really
couldn't so I was just going to have to live with it. Then at the 4 mile mark; well there was
Wadman and he looked like he was hurting.
We had no trouble catching up to him and passing him. We did not see Wadman for the rest of the
race. Dad told me that Wadman had
obviously gone out way to fast and that if I had tried to stick with him I
would have probably been back there with him staggering along like he was. I still appreciate Dad and the help he gave
me in that race.
I want to mention that Wadman
really was a good guy. I saw him in the
park a little after the race was over. Before
I could even consider if I should go point out that the race was not even close,
he approached me and asked me what place I got.
They had given us tongue depressors with our place number written on
them. Mine was 60. His was in the high 80s.
He congratulated me and that really was the last time I saw Wadman.
