Bob Hakes, Bob Bell and Jack Crowe (L to R) chat pre-race at the start of the Good Life Race.
We all need a breath of fresh air. And our Oak Park community has possibilities.
That’s what I was thinking as I toed the start line of the recent Good Life Race, a longtime 5K spring run that starts outside Oak Park and River Forest High School and travels through the village.
The race once had the longest name of any run anywhere: The Race That’s Good for Life. But the newer, shorter Good Life Race is easier to remember.
There was no politicking at the race. No discussion of Trump’s latest Truth Social bleat. No discussion of the Iran war, whether state contractors can boycott Israel, or why the feds dropped felony conspiracy charges against Village Trustee Brian Straw arising from protests at the Broadview ICE facility. Just hundreds of local runners and walkers of all ages, body types, and speeds.
Pre-race, I caught up with two local running legends. There was Bob Bell, 87 years old, who arrived at the race the day after running an 8K in Madison, Wisconsin.
He was here to take on Bob Hakes, 91 years old and another longtime member of the Oak Park Runners Club. Pushing the trash talk, I asked who would beat whom.
“Hakes told me he’s going to kick your butt,” I fibbed to Bell.
Just before the run started, I planted myself around other casual-looking (i.e. slow) runners toward the back. And waited for the starting gun.
But first, the brass and drum sections of the OPRF band played the national anthem. “The land of the free and the home of the brave …”
And then we were off.
The first mile of a 5K is Zen time. Like a silent herd of cattle not knowing if we are running toward dinner or the slaughterhouse. Only the rumbling sound of expensive running shoes hitting the asphalt.
Many runners, especially the younger ones, started too fast. The old dogs knew to hold back. A middle-aged guy near me followed his watch as he practiced the run/walk promoted by late marathon runner Dave Galloway.
He’d pass me running, look at his watch, then start walking, fall back behind me, and repeat.
Mid-run, some of the younger kids running with their Moms or Dads started walking. Families lined the street corners, cheering. A spectator was dressed as a Pokemon character. I stopped for a picture.
At a desultory 35 minutes, I finished. Drank some water. Thanked a volunteer. Ate a banana. Chatted with running friends. And waited for Bell and Hakes to come in. They had jogged together most of the way. Until the last block when one of them suggested surging toward the finish.
It was close, but Hakes beat Bell,
Giving Hakes coffee shop bragging rights for the next year.
A 5K to forget … and remember.
Jack Crowe, a longtime resident and occasional columnist, splits his time between Oak Park and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.