By Christopher Cudworth

When you set off a chain of fireworks there is that moment before the first one pops where the tension is high, The smoke is rising and a small sparky flame inches toward the main fuse.

Then poppity popp crack popp! Off they all go in succession.

Sure they’re illegal in many states. But firecrackers sure are fun. They provide some type of relief from our mundane existences. That’s why some people like to explode really big fireworks. It is the catharsis of summer malaise.

The same can be said of any race you run. There are those moments before the race starts where everything is buzzing around the finish line. You’ve sized up your competitors and the gun has yet to go off. You hope in place. Try to keep warmed up.

Then POW the gun fires and everyone swings into action.

On a hot July day during my early 20s the Firecracker 4-Mile presented just such a scene. I was in the shape of my life, having just run a 31:10 10K the prior week in an event where our racing team took 8 out of the top 10 spots in a local road race.

None of my teammates signed up for the Firecracker 4-Mile. Most had other plans for the 4th of July. So I took it on myself to invade the turf of one of the most prolific running communities in the Chicago suburbs. That was the city of Glen Ellyn.

Ken Popejoy (center) was a Michigan State grad and top ranked miler through the early 80s.

It’s most famous athlete was Ken Popejoy, a sub-4 miler and ruler of all things road and track in the region in those days. But Ken was not racing the Firecracker 4, and for that I was glad.

But another fine runner stood on the line next to me that morning. His name was Geoff as I recall, and he was winning things right and left on the road circuit that summer.

So I knew the race would be difficult. And fast. Plus the terrain of Glen Ellyn was really hilly.

Still I set my sights on 5:00 pace just the same.

And for the first mile we raced along at 5:00 pace. And the second. And the third. I finally tried to surge away from Geoff at the start of the third mile. A knot of his supporters was at the top of a hill and they shouted to him, “Don’t let him go here! Don’t let him go!”

And Geoff surged back. Right on my shoulder. With a half mile to go he took back the lead and it was my turn to hang on. That’s all I could do. The hills and the pace and the heat all kept me in second that day. And a slightly superior runner. He ran 19:59 and I finished in 20:00.

We shook hands and that was that. Memories were made and bling was handed out. My girlfriend and I gathered up my stuff and headed home to set off fireworks, drink beer and wait for the evening’s big display in her hometown.

I was disappointed to lose in the last mile but had not given in easy. It would have been hard to find even a step that might have been changed in the effort. Even when things go almost perfect, it’s always possible that someone else is just that much fitter, a touch more motivated or scared to lose on their home turf.

It’s all about competition. And it’s a joy, for sure.

And that is the principle upon which America is founded. So let’s celebrate it. Have fun with those firecrackers. Be safe and enjoy the 4th if you’re here stateside. To the rest of the world, your Independence Day is always what you make it. Run on. Ride on. See you on the roads.