What I have to do with a 20-year tradition

In Mecca, Ohio, fall does not mean football jerseys and bleachers. Star athletes are not linebackers or quarterbacks.

Instead, the masses at Maplewood Jr/Sr High School cheer on lanky, long-strided runners. I was one of them—runner (don't laugh!) and cheerleader.

There is a tradition at Maplewood that goes by the name of Ted Rupe. He teaches chemistry and physics, and he has coached the students that have ruled the roads for at least 25 years. My brothers had him—and ran for him (even Jeff one year, I think), and my sister and I followed in their paths.

(At this point you're wondering what I'm talking about... Cross Country! Yes, it's a real sport, and yes, it was revered in our school.)

Seems my parents were 2 for 4—split evenly as usual—two runners and two non-runners. Tim was a superstar for his team, and Jen completed each race while representing the most impressive hair to ever grace a cross country course.

In seventh grade, facing the possibility of not filling a seven-girl team, I was recruited by Mr. Rupe to fill the final spot. Poor soul was going off my siblings' abilities and had no idea just how unfit for running I really was. I think that became apparently clear by the first or second practice. I don't think I ran more than a half mile before having to slow to a walk to catch my breath.

My meets that year went something like this:

1. Finish last
2. Finish next to last, just ahead of REALLY big girl
3. Sort of sprain my ankle on first step of sand after flying down big hill (Edgewater)
4. Quit race (Malone)
5. Improve time!
6. Trip and fall, swear in front of group of parents, earn first (and only, I believe) detention for having a potty mouth

And so it continued. I ran (jogged, walked, crawled, quit) for one season. After that, Mr. Rupe called upon a much more sensical side of me: that of statistician! Now this, ladies and gentlemen, was my calling.

I was a stat goddess. Along with my friends Steph and Emily (and sometimes Carrie), I handed out numbers, carried an impressive looking clipboard and dashed from mile marker to mile marker (ironic, isn't it?) calling out times to sweating and heaving runners.

At the finish line, I pulled tickets out of hands covered in body slime and throw up, and walked cramping athletes through a queue line until they could collapse on the grass.

I was among the first to tally and hand in my results each time, and was delighted to report our (usually) winning numbers to Coach Rupe and our talented team members. And, if my memory serves me correctly, my efforts earned me a letter (you know, the kind you stitch on a varsity jacket). And each year, Coach Rupe brought me along with the team to the State Cross Country meet at Scioto Downs in Columbus to eat the pre-meet meal at the Spaghetti Warehouse with the team and then watch our boys and girls toil with the best of them.

Oh yes, Maplewood had never seen the likes of a stat like me.

I don't know who followed in my footsteps upon my graduation, but some lucky girl or guy has made the journey to the State meet for an unheard of 20 years in a row. I was there for meets '91–'96 (and a handful of the ones prior to watch Tim...maybe Jen too?), but this year—2009—marked Coach Rupe's 20th straight state meet. Mind you, that's not 20 for his whole coaching career, but 20 in a row. Who does that?!

He does. And if I were still in high school (scary thought), I would be the girl sporting the "Kicking Grass" shirt (despite the fact that I was standing on the sidelines), pencil secured to my clipboard, stopwatch clutched in my right hand, screaming out times—5:15!, 5:42! 6:03! —in all her nerdy, statistician glory.

Congrats, Coach Rupe and the Maplewood girls and boys Cross Country Teams (Read more about their winning season here). And congrats to the 2009 stats too. May your varsity jackets sparkle with the glory of a statistician's letter too.