Steve McQueen had one of the great movie lines of all time in “The Magnificent Seven.”
You know the movie. Seven aimless gunfighters join forces to defend a poor Mexican village from outlaws led by Eli Wallach, of all people.
Things get bad for Steve and the boys near the end of the film, and they must give up their guns. Eli ... speaking from under a sombrero that looks more like a giant 1950s lamp shade ... asks the guys why they even took the job.
“It’s like a fellow I once knew in El Paso,” says Steve, the cool-handed Vin in the movie. “One day, he just took all his clothes off and jumped in a mess of cactus. I asked him that same question, ‘Why?’
“And?” inquires the bandit leader.
“He said, ‘It seemed to be a good idea at the time,’” answers the gunfighter.
I know how that guy in the cactus patch felt. On Nov. 14, I agreed to run in Albany’s “Last Run” road race in the city’s downtown. It would be 3.2 miles, a brisk run through streets and through holiday-bright Washington Park. Former Gazette reporter Karen Roach also decided to lace up and stride out for the race, which was held this past Saturday night.
Like I said, it seemed like a good idea at the time. And at the time, a rainy night in mid-November, we were about two hours into a pre-holiday beer festival at the Hill Street Cafe in Albany. Mr. Booze was one of the witnesses as we signed a bar napkin and stated our intentions.
Neither Karen nor I had many opportunities to train. In the five weeks since making the pact, we probably ran about a dozen times each. Hard to find time during the holiday season ... especially when the holiday season includes a big Christmas party at my house the night before the run.
No matter. I’m happy to say Karen and I both acquitted ourselves with honor, if not blazing speed. We didn’t drink beer like it was the end of the world on Dec. 18, so we were prepared and peppy by the time the race began at 5 p.m. on Dec. 19.
We decided to have a little fun with the race, posing as heroic avatars from the comic book world. I wore the green shirt and emblem of the Green Lantern, while Karen dressed in the scarlet and yellow lightning bolt symbol of the Flash. Karen, an avowed Aquaman fan, might have preferred the orange and green wardrobe of that waterlogged hero. But I had the gag shirts in stock — and they only come out on Halloween — so Aquaman never suited up.
I had a bright green wool hat and Karen got a bright red one, to complete our Christmas-friendly outfits. You can click HERE and HERE to see the photos.
My brother Tim became our valet for the night, holding keys and camera --- and lime green windbreakers received for signing up for the race --- as Karen and I went over our strategy. Like Steve McQueen’s plan in The Mag Seven, it was simple: Come out of the race alive.
Runners were herded like sheep out of the Empire State Plaza’s concourse level at about 4:45 p.m. There was only one door open leading to State Street, where a giant fireworks show was underway on the front lawn of the state Capitol building. We took our places near the end of the line. About three or four minutes later, an air horn blared and sent the somber saraband on its way.
Karen and I agreed to go at a steady pace and run together. We figured 10- or 11-minute miles, with adrenaline carrying us the first half-mile or so.
That’s what happened, and this was just a fun race. I don’t know of any other local runs that start in the dark, and it’s kind of fun to take on the elements. There was no snow in the air, nor ice on the pavement, but it was colder than a witch’s living room. “In the frosty air” sounds so romantic in “Jingle Bell Rock,” but there is nothing sexy about the mid-20s on a cold, pre-winter night.
By the time we hit the park, the line of runners had thinned out. It was great to see all the lighting displays for the “Capital Holiday Lights in the Park,” and Karen and I were not so out of breath we could not manage some conversation. We were still in the park when the leading hotshot runner came prancing like Blitzen himself on his way out of the place and back to city streets for the finish line. The guy probably clocked 14 or 15 minutes, but he was a young dude. And every day, you get older, Now that’s a law! ... as Paul Newman once said as Butch Cassidy. Let’s see if he’s doing 14 or 15 at 54!
Green Lantern and the Flash both had enough left in the legs to increase speeds as they ran down State Street toward the finish line. It was like a scene out of the “Super Friends.”
We crossed the finish line together, in 35 minutes and change. And we both had a sense of accomplishment ... if the entire city of Albany had run the race, we probably would have finished in the top 15 percent.
We collected young Tim, who was as cold as a package of Mrs. Paul’s fish sticks. He should have ducked inside the plaza after the race began, but said he didn’t want to miss us crossing the finish line. His math must have been faulty .... we were never going to be back 20 minutes later.
No door prizes. But all three of us celebrated the feat at Karen’s house, in front of a nice hot fire and behind cold bottles of beer. Our legs felt so good, we began thinking about a St. Patrick’s Day race for March.
At the time, after three cold ones, it seemed like a good idea.
