PHOTOS: Experiencing the Manchester Road Race

The 79th edition of the Manchester Road Race was my first trip back as a registered participant in 28 years.

I ran the nation’s oldest 5-mile (actually 4.78-something) race three times: in 1980 and 1981 as a high school student (finishing in 28:28 the first year), and again in 1987 to shut the mouth of an obnoxious co-worker (mission accomplished, I beat the arrogant jerk by about two minutes).

This year, my kids and I decided to give me one final tour of the grueling course, for several reasons:

1. It’s the 35th anniversary of my first entry in this race;
2. I just turned 50 and wanted to reminisce about my (much) younger days;
3. My son runs high school cross country, as I did, and I wanted him to feel the excitement of a huge field and crowd, in case he decides he wants to run it next year;
4. I wanted both of my kids to experience the pagaentry, silliness, fun and excitement that is Manchester.

They got all that and more.

At times, it seemed we were at a carnival sideshow rather than a sporting event. Main Street looked like a cross between Halloween and Monty Hall.

For the majority of the nearly 15,000 participants, the fun is what brings them back year after year.

We saw the Hanson Brothers; Dorothy, Scarecrow, Tin Man and Lion (Toto must have been off in the bushes); girls dressed as grapes; couples dressed as zombies; Coneheads; pilgrims - you name it, we saw it.

Bands played all along the course, from bagpipers near Highland Park Market to some younger groups belting out Billy Idol and Poison 80s rock.

We met people from all over the state, and most of all, we enjoyed the entire walk - even the dreaded hill up Highland Street. We finished near the back of the pack, but considering the foot of steel and 11 bolts in my left leg, I’m thrilled I made it through the entire route without having to call for a stretcher.

The kids and I wore matching shirts featuring lime-green ribbons - the symbol for lymphoma awareness. “Remission Rocks” was our message - I am proud to be a six-year cancer survivor, and I thank all those along the route that cheered us when they read our shirts.

The day ended on a note that brought me a great deal of satisfaction. Following the race, we took the shuttle bus back to Manchester Community College. As we were departing, my 16-year-old son picked up a 20 dollar bill that was on the floor of the bus.

In a situation where 95 percent of us (including his old man) would have pocketed the Andrew Jackson, Alex handed the bill to the bus driver, telling her, “In case someone comes back looking for it, take it.”

I’m very proud of my son, and I’m equally proud of my daughter Mia. They are both involved in Relay for Life at their schools, raising money for cancer research, and they are the reason I kicked the living crap out of cancer. Not a minute goes by that I don’t realize how lucky I am to have them.