The Full Monte

The Full Monte

I first met Monte Pasqual on the bus to the start of the Yakima River Canyon Marathon.  We were sitting next to each other, making the sort of conversation runners do, in those sorts of settings.  So I asked him how many marathons he ran each year.  "Forty," was his reply.

I assumed he hadn't heard my question correctly; perhaps he thought I had asked him how many he had run in total.  So, I repeated my question.  "Forty," he responded again.  "The first year I did less, but ever since then it's been forty."  OMG!  He continued, "Some weekends I double up, to keep the travel costs down."  Sure.  Why not.

I cried the remainder of the bus ride (though didn't let him notice).

I've caught a glimpse of him, generally at the same marathon, though sometimes elsewhere, in recent years, though not had a chance to speak with him until this past Saturday at the Geoduck Gallop Half Marathon.

He was in front of me, early on.  His running style caught my attention.  It seemed to indicate someone who had bashed his body for thousands of miles.  His run was now little more than a glorified walk.  His left arm swung rather wildly, not apparently contributing to forward motion.  To me he now seemed a broken shadow of a once great runner.

That being said, he gradually pulled away from me, until I lost sight of him.

Late in the run I saw him again.  Now I was closing on him.  He was running with one other person, a woman.  They seemed to know each other.  With about a half a mile to go, I was up to them.  The woman made a humorous remark about "Fast runner, passing on left."  I assured her she had me confused with someone else.

I ran the rest of the distance with them.  Some friends met them, at the finish.  I overheard Monte say that he had been "taking is easy."  Ouch!  He was asked about his plans for the next day.  "Going to continue to take it easy; just running 25 miles."

A broken shadow of a once great runner.