Return of the pilgrimage to the Penn Relays
I have a yearly trip to Philadelphia to see the greatest track and field meet on Earth: the Penn Relays. My father took me to my first Penn when I was 9. It was wild: late sixties, the smell of marijuana wafting around, people selling Huey Newton Black Panther posters, people playing bongos in the stands. Occasionally fights would break out between rival high school spectators. My father had to leave me alone suddenly as my mother went into labor with my brother. Here I was: one of the few white people there, alone, all of nine. I felt totally safe. When I related this episode to other people, they seem horrified.
Teams from Jamaica were already competing, and they were amazingly fast. Waiting on the train to Bryn Mawr from 30th Street Station, the popular song “One Toke Over the Line” kept playing in my head.
I went year after year, eventually running the 4x400 meter relay for Princeton. When I went to Berkeley for graduate school, I had a long hiatus. After grad school, I moved to Chicago to work at Fermilab, and then got tenure at Harvard. There, I realized a trip back to Penn was manageable, and I resumed. Since then, I’ve made the trip nearly every year.
My administrative assistant at the time, Carol Davis, had a husband named Skip who, like me, was an avid track fan. We started to attend together. For a couple of years, I ran as a master in both the 4x400 and the 4x100. My 50+ year old body wasn’t really up for sprints, and after too many hamstring pulls, I hung up my spikes.
Covid hit and the “longest continuously running track carnival” (yes, they called it a carnival) took a two year hiatus.
Forward to 2022: restrictions were easing up, the relay was on again. My mother got tickets for the same seats we get year after year. Alas, Skip couldn’t make it as his knees were in such poor shape that he felt he couldn’t negotiate the stairs in the stands. I managed to get a buyer for the tickets with one of the masters runners I knew. This was Tucker Taft, and he ran in to 65-year-old-plus relays, the 4x100 and 4x400, setting American records in both.
The pilgrimage started with the trip down on Thursday. The leaves are just barely out in Boston, and as the train goes south, more and more foliage opened up. I dropped my luggage at 30th Street Station and made it over to Franklin Field, where the carnival was already in full swing. I’ll spare you the details, but there were a lot of qualifying heats and then some championship races- the sun was out and there were few clouds in the sky.
I took the train from 30th Street back to Bryn Mawr. My brain is now hardwired to hear One Toke Over the Line while waiting for the train.
Back at my old home, I visited with my mom, who was delighted to see me. My father died in November, and she said that the one thing she seriously missed in his passing was their chance to chat in the evenings. Most of her days are busy with clients (she still practices as a psychologist), various social interactions, and gardening. But, the evenings are now tough for her. My presence as someone to chat with was something she looked forward to, and she noted how much my father enjoyed my willingness to hold what he felt were intellectual discussions.
That was Thursday. I took the train back on Friday to watch a nearly full day of events.
Again, I’ll spare the details, but one was memorable, but not in a good way. The high school girls 4x800 meter race was carnage. The leadoff runner from Holmwood Tech (Jamaica) got tangled up going around the turn and fell. She was on the ground for a long time surrounded by medics and finally carted away on a gurney. I later learned that she broke her leg in the fall.
Edwin Allen, another Jamaican team, often dominates this relay, and they were out in front. The one US team that had even a remote shot at it was Union Catholic, who always fields a good squad. The greats Sydney McLaughlin and Athing Mu are from Union Catholic. The names might not mean much to the average reader, but track fans know. The Union Catholic leadoff runner managed to stay close to Edwin Allen. The second leg for UC was a runner wearing a head-covering, and she worked super hard to stay in touch with the runner from Edwin Allen, but she collapsed only 10 meters from the exchange zone, with the third runner waiting. She got up and fell down again, and finally got up and managed to get the baton off. She was lying on the ground shaking and had to be taken off in a wheelchair. Later, I was reminded that it was Ramadan and she must have been fasting all day. Likely, the combination of low blood sugar and running her heart out took its toll. But that wasn’t all. Three other runners fell to the track after their handoffs and had to be taken away in wheelchairs – I don’t know what happened to them, but I’m guessing leg cramps. Edwin Allen did win.
Saturday rolled around, and I was in early again. This was the big day, and the stands filled up. Old seat mates I knew from years back showed up. They’re all Jamaican emigres who live in the states and wave their Jamaican flags during the championship races. The day started out cold, but when the sun hit the stands, I was baking.
As usual, the Jamaican high school teams dominated their championship races, and one team, Camperdown, that had been knocking on the door for years, claimed a championship in the 4x100 meter relay.
A surprise – the Jamaican Prime Minister, Andrew Holness, showed up. He watched many of the championship heats in the stands, just one section over from me. Maybe it won’t impress you much but sitting close to the Jamaican Prime Minister while watching the relays at Penn was a big deal for me. He addressed the crowd from the infield and closed with the phrase “one love”.
A few details: Jamaican teams have been running at Penn since 1964. This year marks the 60th year of independence of Jamaica, so it was a fitting appearance.
One more trip back home, waiting on the train at 30th Street Station.
I made it back to Bryn Mawr one last time and visited with my brother who came up. It was his birthday dinner – somehow it all came full circle.
Sunday, I took the train back to 30th street, and got on the platform, waiting on the train back up to Boston. As a coda to the weekend, a woman came up to me and asked “Are you Professor Huth?,” I nodded “yes.”
She: “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m one of your students from way back, Shana McCormack.”
Me: “Oh, yes, you were in my Physics 15a class back in the mid nineties, and you went on to medical school.”
She was surprised that I remembered. She was off to NYC to visit a friend who was also in that class. I asked about what she was up to. She specializes in endocrinology at the Children’s Hospital, and said she really enjoyed her work. She has two children, ages 10 and 13.
I enjoyed your story. One of these days, I'll make it to the relays. My daughter lives and owns a restaurant in Philly.
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