Wally

Ted McKercher

In 1966, almost ten years after graduating from high school where I had been on the track team, I decided to try getting in shape again. With thoughts of trying out for the local semi-pro football team, I started going to the track at my old high school, Gresham Union High School, after work to run in my old military brogans. I soon realized I really did not want to play football, but liked running; and with encouragement and companionship from my old friend, Gene, we began running after work.

We soon worked our way up to a mile, then two, and I was hooked! But, Gene wasn’t. Soon, two miles wasn’t enough! I theorized if I could run two miles, four should not be too much harder. Then six and eight fascinated me.

But this running story isn’t really about me. You see, I graduated from my old high school track to the Mt. Hood Community College track. I would go there, jog a few laps and then hit the road for some mileage. One evening in July in the early 1970’s, I was doing my usual routine when a short, slightly chubby guy stopped me and asked how often I ran and if he could run with me a little way. He told me where he lived and since it was on my route, he asked me to pick him up as I am running by. “Sure,” I said.

So, Wally and I started running together. Wally would run shirtless. With the sun on his back, he would curse his shadow that showed his “love handles” bouncing up and down! At 160-plus lbs., Wally was about 20 lbs. overweight for a normal person; even more so for a runner.

After running together for a couple of weeks at Wally’s pace, I decided to pick it up. From the College, we jogged about a mile to get warm and then picked up the pace. My thoughts were, “Okay, Wally, now we’re going to hit it.” We ran east on Stark Street near MHCC, the sun at our backs. I was not going to show any sympathy….I started striding out and my running companion started dropping back! Soon I couldn’t see his shadow. The pad, pad, pad sound of his footsteps was gone. Soon I could not hear his breathing. I did not look back.

Possibly a mile or so later, I heard him breathing: PUFF, PUFF, PUFF! Then came the soft pad, pad, pad; soon his shadow started creeping up along side of me! We were running TOGETHER!

Wally and I ran a lot the next couple of months, taking turns laying out courses and leading the runs. We pushed each other hard at times. We ran some grueling hills, the worst being from the main street in Troutdale up to Stark Street via Troutdale Road. Wally never lagged behind again. He continued to curse his dwindling love handled shadow. While grinding up the courses we had chosen, he often said “Bowerman says short runners run up hill better.” Wally did!

Wally went to the U. of O. that Fall, curtailing our partnership running. I kept up with him for awhile, but I’m not a very good “keeper-upper” so we eventually lost track of one another. I did see him once though. He was wearing some very baggy, worn clothes, sort of what one would expect a married, “starving” college student to wear. Even though he was determined to succeed as a student, he also kept running.

In October of that year, at 130 lbs. and no “love handles,” Wally posted a three hour marathon – 26.2 miles in three hours! That is a shade less than nine miles per hour!

Another aging friend says, “All we have at our age is memories.” Maybe, but some of them are of amazing people. I often think of Wally and miss him.

I’d like to go for a run.

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