Fountain of Youth Elixir Energizes Columnist to Run Gasparilla 5-K Race

Longterm Effects of Ponce de Leon's Magical Potion Remain to be Seen

February 12, 2005
By: Dave Rogers

      "Awesome, Tampa Bay!" the female disk jockey perched atop a platform waved her microphone toward the finish line.

      "Awesome, go for it! You got it!" she shouted, floppy pink hat well, flopping.

      Obnoxious rock music blared loudly from speakers behind the chanting jockeyette. Huge multi-colored balloons waved from lines on the platform, advertising real estate companies, banks and the radio station itself, Snoopy 93 or something like that.

      I was in the middle of the pack jammed into a downtown street in Tampa, Florida, on Feb. 5, 2005.

            "There's 7,000 in the 5-K, 4,000 in the 15K, exclaimed a stringbean girl jogging in place next to me at the start.

      I had foolishly selected a yellow number, indicating I expected to finish "sub 40." Green numbers indicated "sub 30 minutes." White were worn by those who forecast they were even faster and would be among the top finishers.

      The whole color-coding process was to make it easier for 7,000 runners to cross the starting line and stream through the streets of Tampa in some orderly fashion.

      After four minutes of tip-toeing I finally reached the start where, I learned later, a computer chip tied to my shoe triggered my name and starting time in a computer.

      The last minute decision to enter the race had led to a mad dash up the steps of the Tampa Convention Center to register with just a minute to spare.


Grasping a bag of giveaways like candy bars, coupons and a colorful shirt with a picture of a grinning Gasparilla pirate and a copy of the Tampa Tribune, I followed the crowd to the street leading to the starting line.

      Then the awful question hit me: Why wasI doing this? Because in 1985 I ran the Detroit Free Press Marathon. "That was almost 20 years ago, you fool!" I chastised myself. "Because you used to run every year in the St. Patrick's Day Five Mile Race in Bay City?" That was even longer ago.

       Then I realized why I was in the race. After a backdoor visit the previous day to the Fountain of Youth in St. Augustine, I felt I could do most anything, even run a 5-K race (3.2 miles), something I hadn't done in years. Or maybe it was the excitment stirred up by Dolores' daughter, Jennifer Gamache, and her athlete husband, Dr. Michael Gamache, 49, eminent Tampa psychologist. He followed the 5-K on Saturday with a heroic 26.2 mile marathon the next day, and I was perhaps inspired by the double run.

      The panoply of the Gasparilla Race was like a county fair gone mad, runners of all shapes, sizes, races, ages and physical conditions scampering everywhere.

      A young boy, maybe 12 or 13, passes me and, not paying attention, collides headlong into a small tree. He picks himself up and manfully trots along, apparently none the worse for wear. A young mom pushes a baby carriage; the girl inside is 10 months old, she says in response to a query. I couldn't think of anything else to say except: "First race?."

      A line of runners stretched down Bay Shore Boulevard for miles, plodding along bravely, many in outlandish gear.

      It seemed like everybody in Tampa was running that day and many who were not in the race, because they had no numbers, just ran along and then went off in their own directions. They were just out for a daily workout.

      Along Bay Shore Drive people on every corner chanted encouragement. A brass band perched on the breakwater serenaded the runners. A squad of black-clad Marines comes by, double-timing to the cadence of a female drill sergeant, three front runners carrying flags. Runners came in all categories: lovers arm in arm, teams of girls in pink outfits, tall guys with Cat in the Hat headgear, an incredibly brave man on crutches hobbling along.

      The computer chip on my shoe provided an amazing technological boost to race managers. An announcer knew the name of every runner as they approached the finish line. "Here's Sandra Gizzard of Keokuk, Iowa," was shouted. Sandra was baffled. "Bruce Colvin of San Antonio, Texas, way to go, Bruce!"

      It was cheering later to find that 68 men ages 65-69 ran in the race and that I finished tolerably well, in the middle of the pack. Just to finish was a triumph, I exulted.

      Of course, that thought was tempered by the realization that perhaps the drink from the Fountain of Youth made the feat possible.

      Or maybe the whole thingwas a dream and I just made up the story to have material for this column. You be the judge.###