“I’m proud
of you.”
••••WE LOVE YOU, GEORGEGeorge is racing without his Mountain Men
today. It’s one of his three annual races beyond
the relay, the Mount Washington Road Race in
New Hampshire’s White Mountains. The 7.43-
mile road climbs up more than 5,000 feet to the
tallest point in the Northeastern United States.
From the start, George falls to the back of the
pack with his grandson, Bob, who acts as a pack
mule, carrying jackets and George’s homemade
lemonade—the only thing he consumes while
running. Every runner goes by him, many taking
pictures or wishing him luck: “Go, George.” “We
love you, George.” “You’re an inspiration, George.”
The word inspiration troubles him: “I haven’t
died yet.” People see an elderly runner beating
back age through a measured shuff le. Yet they
don’t see his entire story. They don’t see him
calling elderly runners to reignite the f lame inside
them when they think they’re done. They don’t see
the champion of the everyday runner, who could
have quit years ago. When he retired in 1993. Or
when Mary passed away. Or even after this, his
13th time racing up Mount Washington.
But they do see a hero, an icon, charging up the
mountain until he finishes in 4:04:48—a minute
faster than last year.
The minute George is back at the starting area
where a postrace feast is happening, he is rushed
to the stage, where he is met with a minute-long
standing ovation.
“You made a promise to us,” says the race
announcer to George, “and you keep delivering on
that promise that you’re going to keep going, right?”
“I’ll try,” he says.
As he exits the stage, he is rushed by the crowd
of tired, cheering runners wanting to speak and
take pictures with him. A young child tugs on her
mother’s shorts and whispers a question.
Mom crouches down and points to the
legend before them. “You know who that
is?” she says. “That’s George.”E But he survived, and that week, Mary bought
him his first pair of Army-green running shorts.
He still has them and runs every race in them.
Mary soon joined him on his runs for a few years,
until her joints forced her to quit.
Mary still supported George in every race and
every run. For decades she patched up those tat-
tered green shorts. In their 80s, she would drive
him to Tussey Mountain for his training runs,
except she had the easier part of those runs. She’d
drive to the top and wait for him. Then, when he
finally arrived, she’d drive him back down so he
could do it again.
But it wasn’t until Mary’s last days that George
realized why he still ran.
Mary first got sick in 2007, when she was
diagnosed with mycosis fungoides, a cancer in
the lymphatic tissues, on her stomach and back.
She would beat it, but for the next three years,
she was in and out of the hospital, George always
by her side.
In July 2010, Mary was diagnosed with pulmo-
nary fibrosis, a scarring of the lungs that made
breathing difficult, and hospitalized again. But
she encouraged George to keep running. This
was the fourth year with his Tussey 50-Miler
relay team. Mary insisted that he do it. George
took the fifth leg, the earliest that didn’t require
doing a second. George planned for their daughter
Shirley to pick him up after his run and bring him
back to the hospital to be with Mary.
But when George neared the end of leg five, it
was Mary who greeted him, sitting in the back of
Shirley’s car with her oxygen tank. Neither George
nor Mary had much breath. When Mary was able
to, she spoke four words that George will never
forget: “I’m proud of you.”
Mary lost her battle with pulmonary fibrosis in
December 2010. Though she’s gone, he still talks
with her, often when he’s running, which he con-
tinues to do because he feels Mary would want
him to. “I always think that she’d be encouraging
me to keep doing this,” George says. “‘I’m proud
of you.’ That hangs there in my mind.”→
George
leads an
Old Men
training run
at Tussey
Mountain.86 RUNNERSWORLD.COM