PUBLISHED 04/01/2006
I can see the finish line, and I feel an emotional rush that transforms me from a mere mortal into a mythical creature with winged feet. Well, okay, maybe not winged feet. How about a mythical creature with webbed feet? Forget eagles and sparrows; it's time to celebrate the power of penguins.
I wrote those words in May 1994 while riding in the backseat of a van returning from a half-Ironman triathlon in Panama City, Florida. I had finished dead last. As I jotted my thoughts down, I never imagined anyone else would ever read them. Boy, was I wrong.
Exactly two years after that van ride, the words I intended as a personal journal entry became the opening lines of the first "Penguin Chronicle" printed in Runner's World. Since May 1996, the title of the column, the accompanying artwork, and the editors have all changed. But the power of penguins, as described in the following selections from that original Chronicle, remains as unconquerable and inspiring as ever.
You've seen a penguin run. A chaotic flurry of feet. A living testimony to the dominance of will over form. And many of us, those for whom a 10-K qualifies as their long run for the week, represent no less a victory of will over form. With the indomitable force of the glaciers, we plod and shuffle our way through race after race. More amazingly, to you eagles and sparrows, we penguins are having the time of our lives.
Not so long ago, the very notion that someone with limited talent--okay, in my case, someone with virtually no talent--would enjoy being a runner was heresy. After all, running was a sport that celebrated speed. But from my vantage point in the back of the pack, I couldn't help but notice a change. A whole generation of slower runners began showing up at races. And much to the surprise, and chagrin, of some in the running community, these slower folks seemed to be having much more fun than those sprinting up ahead. This pure, unadulterated fun made running contagious.
