From DNF to Victory

by Tom Bresko

April 2024

I hit the mud in a heap and my full bodyweight landed on top of my left leg.  I both felt and heard something “pop” which caused severe pain in my thigh.  It was spring 2022 at the Whitehouse Fruit Farm 5K where heavy rains the week of the race left the course soft, slippery and dangerous.  Prior the race, officials warned us several times to be careful.  I followed their advice and slowly shuffle-stepped the modest first downhill but the slick surface caused my feet and legs to twist and boom—I was down.  In pain.  Several passing runners asked if they could do anything to help.  Embarrassed, I blurted out “No, I’m ok.”  As I rolled on my back in the mud to straighten my leg, I quickly became encased in a slimy cocoon.  At 68 years of age, for the first time in my life, I felt old and vulnerable.  My wife, who was walking the course,  arrived moments later to help me to my feet.  Hurt and humbled, I told her to keep going and that I would just “walk” to the finish line.  Despite my efforts to keep up with her, she soon disappeared far ahead in Whitehouse’s apple-flowered orchard.  Defeated, I made my way to the nearby woods, vomited from the pain, and limped off the course.  

Later that night, I realized I had run races for over 40 years, from one mile to marathons, and hobbled across finish lines in pain countless times.  But never, ever, did I have a DNF.  This was my first.Once home, my wife suggested a trip to the doctor.  Upset, I argued “What’s he gonna do?”  

Besides, I had googled and “self diagnosed” my injury as a front thigh, grade 3 strain.  It would take several months to heal.  Six months later, I still couldn’t complete a full squat and a simple misstep would cause ample pain.  I began to think seriously about my running future since the past few years had brought little satisfaction.  I had limited myself to a 5K here and there, but even training for this relatively short distance brought regular bouts of plantar fasciitis, achilles tendonitis, knee or ankle pain.  Sure, I’d finish the 3.1 mile distance, but would come in winded, slow, and thinking I should have done better.  It was physically and mentally frustrating.  Heck, maybe I was too old.  Was my body breaking down?  Should I give up running completely and become a permanent walker?  It truly was an existential question for me.

The answer to that question hit me in late fall.  In several months, I would turn the Biblical “three score and ten.”  Okay, in case you don’t know, that’s 70 years of age.  I wanted a physical challenge, at least to me, of epic proportions.  And there it was right in front of me—I would do the 2023 Peace Race 10K.  I had run the Peace Race many times throughout my life but it had been twenty years since my last one.  Yes, this would be the goal that would allow me, like like the legendary Phoenix, to “rise from the ashes!”

There was one thing I needed to do first—erase that one DNF from my memory.  I trained, gently and cautiously, for the 2023 Whitehouse 5K and finished the much dryer course with very little left in my tank.  In fact, it may have been my slowest 5K time ever.  But I was thrilled with my “accomplishment.”  As I wolfed down one of Whitehouse’s famous blueberry donuts, everyone could see my purple stained teeth in my smile.  I had avenged my sole DNF.  

There was one thing I needed to do first—erase that one DNF from my memory.  I trained, gently and cautiously, for the 2023 Whitehouse 5K and finished the much dryer course with very little left in my tank.  In fact, it may have been my slowest 5K time ever.  But I was thrilled with my “accomplishment.”  As I wolfed down one of Whitehouse’s famous blueberry donuts, everyone could see my purple stained teeth in my smile.  I had avenged my sole DNF.  

I stuck to this plan and guess what?  I suffered no physical injuries or setbacks throughout the training.  In addition, I finished the formal program four weeks prior the Peace Race and took advantage of the extra time to run the entire 10K distance four more times.

Come race day, I knew I was ready physically and mentally.  Music filled the air at Kirkmere school which was the runners’ gathering point at the race start.  One song, “Let There Be Peace On Earth,” played several times and was, of course, appropriate for the theme of the race.  It was somewhat surreal to line up at the race start with long-time friends that I hadn’t run with for years.  Finally, the national anthem rang out, the horn sounded, and we were off!  

It was exciting.  Surrounded by chatter and cheers and the pounding of feet on asphalt, I had forgotten how much I enjoyed being a part of a family of runners.  The fastest athletes raced ahead while the slowest runners, myself included, were instantly swallowed by the pack and spit out the back.  About a half-mile into the race, enthusiastic supporters sat in chairs in their yards, in front of various signs and displays, and yelled encouragement and even offered beers.  

And then we entered Mill Creek Park.  Having worked for the park for 36 years, it was like coming home. The Park’s early fall colors embraced and calmed me.  Chit-chat between runners tapered off and I began to hear the deep breaths of laboring runners.  Running the curves and twists of the park roads, I passed by the Chestnut Hill Pavilion, Lanterman’s Mill, the Flats, the Suspension Bridge and Lake Cohasset.  They all brought back pleasant memories.  I eventually arrived at Lake Glacier.  Near the boathouse, something interesting happened.  Tom Grantonic, generously photographing runners for the Peace Race, yelled out “Hey Tom” and I gave a “Hey Tom” in return.  Within seconds, Wilma DePiore, an outstanding runner who skipped this year’s race to cheer others, yelled another “Hey Tom.”  Then, a few steps later, as I rounded the boathouse bend, two Mill Creek Park officers who I worked with years ago gave me a friendly wave and another “Hey Tom.”  At that point the couple running alongside me turned and impishly offered, “Hi, you must be Tom!”  I exited the Park in a joyful spirit.

A half-mile away from the finish line, I tried to increase my pace.  You know, a “big finish” kind of thing.  But after 30 seconds, I was gasping and my body tired and slowed down.  It was a stupid move but no harm done.  A few runners passed me on the final hill but I didn’t care—I was still moving forward and the final turn was in sight.  As I rounded the corner, there it was—the Peace Race finish line!  I had done it!  

As I crossed the finish line with hands held high, my wife Robin captured the moment with her camera.  We actually placed the photo in our family and friend Christmas newsletter!  Although completing the Peace Race was truly a highlight of my 2023, I really couldn’t have done it without Robin, who supported me through my rehab, doubts and training.    

So, will I run the 50th anniversary of the Peace Race this year?  I really don’t know.  Right now, I’m content to savor this one.