When George McMenemy looked into those 12-year-old eyes, he knew the answer had to be yes.
McMenemy’s running life only started when he was 53, and that was before his grandson was even born. When James looked up at McMenemy and asked if he’d take him to Boston so they could run a 5K together, it was the culmination of more than 15 years of stress fractures and muscle pulls, of arthritis aches and torn ligaments. It was his chance to share one of the loves of his life with another one of them.
When McMenemy talks about James notching a 26:57 in the Boston Athletic Association 5K “with no training,” his voice raises an octave, the excitement evident. They walked the streets of Boston. They caught James’ favorite team — the Blue Jays — playing the Red Sox at Fenway Park. They sat 12 rows behind the Blue Jays’ dugout, braced against a brisk 20-mph wind that could even chill the bones of a couple of Ontarians. It was perfect.
Running brought them together that April weekend, a few hundred miles from home. Running has taken McMenemy to many locations in Canada, to California, New York, Kentucky and even Reykjavik, Iceland. Next month, for the first time, it’ll bring him to Atlanta for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution Peachtree Road Race. Fifteen years earlier, McMenemy never imagined his legs could take him so far.
Pole to pole
At 53 years old, McMenemy had never laced up his shoes and gone for a long run. He had friends who ran with a local track club, and he was curious what the fuss was about.
For a few years, he had been walking to a Tim Horton’s restaurant for his morning coffee. He decided this was the opportunity he needed to dip his toes in the waters of running, jogging from one telephone pole to another, then walking to the next one. Alternating allowed him to ease his body into the pace of running, to feel out how his legs felt underneath him, hitting the pavement with a steady rhythm, his lungs pumping harder than he was used to feeling.
It didn’t take him long for it to become part of his routine, and to push himself further. Within a month, he ran his first 5K. Faster than he ever expected, he was off.
“I wish I would have been smart enough to start running 20 years earlier,” he said. “It’s a very cheap drug. It’s a healthy, cheap drug.”
He dropped 50 pounds, graduating to 10Ks, half marathons, then full marathons four years later. He ran more than 60 miles every week, with 10 miles of grueling hills on Saturday mornings. He got quicker, and everything became easier. The hills seemed flatter, and the breeze around him came faster.
But so did the injuries — nine stress fractures in his legs, including one in his foot. A torn meniscus. He deals with the pain from osteoarthritis on every run. And last year, he tore a stomach muscle down to his knee six miles into the Ottawa Half Marathon. Nothing was going to keep him from finishing, but he dragged himself across the line at 2:11:41.2. He was off the running circuit for the rest of the summer, and he had to work his way back into running shape.
A year later, he feels strong, and he’s ready to trek south. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution Peachtree Road Race is calling.
Chasing the runner’s high
He’s had his eyes on the Peachtree for years, but he hadn’t been able to work it into his schedule until now. It’ll take him deeper into the South than he’s ever run, and he’ll do so with 60,000 of his fellow runners. He even joined the Atlanta Track Club from nearly 1,000 miles away to ensure himself a spot in the race. He’s the club’s only member from the province.
Part of the draw of running is the places it takes him, from the breathtaking architecture of Reykjavik to Centennial Olympic Park in downtown Atlanta. He’s looking forward to the MARTA ride to the starting line, commiserating with thousands of runners and costumed revelers, celebrating his neighboring country’s birthday.
He knows to anticipate a spectacle, and it’ll be one of at least seven races he pushes through in July. That will include the birthday of his home nation, as he takes on the Scotiabank Canada Day Road Races 5K on July 1, returning to the city where one of the worst injuries he’s endured as a runner occurred one year earlier, to commemorate Canada’s 150th birthday in its capital city.
Each time his feet hit the pavement, he’ll be chasing the feeling. The zone, when all the miles pay off, when his feet get lighter, the road gets straighter. When it comes, nothing matters but that moment. The runner’s high is almost mythical, but everyone who’s laced up a pair of trainers and crossed the finish line a few times knows it’s real. It can’t be forced; it can only be experienced, and there’s no way of knowing when it’ll come next.
“When you get it, I don’t know how quite to describe it,” McMenemy said. “You know you’re moving, but you don’t feel like you’re moving. It’s an unbelievable feeling; it just enhances the fun of the run. Whether it’s a 5K or a marathon or whatever, it just comes.”
Boston beckons
As McMenemy approaches 70, he knows he’s going to keep running until he can’t — until the proverbial tank that drives his legs and lungs through mile after mile is empty. He has no idea when that will be. No runner does. There are millions out there just like McMenemy. They all want to go forever, but the day comes for each.
McMenemy has his eyes on the calendar, though. He’s looking at 2022. That’s when James’ sister, Abbey, turns 12. She wants what her brother had — a perfect weekend in Boston, running a 5K beside her granddad and brother.
He beamed when he said that maybe they’ll turn out to be runners, too. That maybe he’s sparked something inside them, that they can find the passion he’s found, but start so much sooner. Maybe he can see them find a love he didn’t know until he’d been on this earth nearly 50 years. Maybe he can see their smiles as they pass him on the road in Boston, five years from now.
“She said, ‘When I get to be 12, would you take me to the same race you took my brother to?’” McMenemy said. “I said, ‘If you want to go, and grandpa’s still running, he’ll take you.’”
When he looked into those 6-year-old eyes, he knew the answer had to be yes.
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