Trettin Memorial
Silver Lumsdaine

“The essence of cross-country is that it’s a contact sport….”
                                                                         --Hal Higdon

The veracity of that statement was as undeniable as the cold raindrops pelting my face the morning of March 15, 2003. The 3rd annual John Trettin Memorial 5k was to be run on my old stomping grounds, the Cabrillo High School cross-country course. Two inches of rain fell in 6 hours that morning. It wasn’t just raining cats and dogs, it was raining a whole freakin’ animal shelter. The Cabrillo High track, a clay cinder track where the 5k starts and finishes, was completely underwater by race morning, necessitating a few last-minute course revisions onto terra firma or in this case, terra obscurus, a.k.a. the blacktop volleyball courts.

At the word “go”, sixty-two soggy, gleeful runners and walkers splashed away from the start line into the rain, the wind, the cold. As the blacktop ended and the course turned back into the sandy trails behind Cabrillo, we found ourselves leaping bodies of water, dodging tree branches, and braving the mud and mire.

After the first mile, the trail descended into “The Switchbacks”, a downhill section of sharp turns that, by virtue of the rainstorm, now approximated a mud luge. As the young man ahead of me slid and almost went down, I thought to myself, hmm, maybe I’ll just follow so that he can show me where the slippery parts are. Fortunately, both of us kept our feet as we flew down the steepest part of the trail and headed for the hill affectionately known as “Big Sandy.” Big Sandy rises steeply for about 200m. Under dry conditions, it has the footing of a sand dune—two steps forward, one step back. Under flood watch conditions, however, it was just one long, exhausting ascent in heavily soaked shoes.

The course continued to climb, albeit more gently, as we approached the lower playing fields of the high school. As we made the turn from the muddy trail onto the playing fields, I, and the two young men running with me began making our moves. One young man dropped back as the pace increased, while the other pulled ahead. I tailed him as we swept along the blacktop and back onto the field once again. As we flew up the final rise to the finish line, I put the hammer down, but he refused to give in. I finished at his elbow. Kudos to him - he earned his triumph. We all did.

Flash forward 24 hours - I’m warm and dry and talking with Kent Yankee, assistant race director, Cabrillo High grad, and someone who knew Dr. Trettin well. As Kent regaled me with stories and anecdotes about Dr. Trettin, it became evident why this man was so beloved by his friends, his family, and his community. He was an amazing, inspiring, encouraging human being - an orthopaedic surgeon, a family man who loved his wife and 3 kids, an incredible runner/cyclist and perennial Boston Marathon competitor, team doctor for Cabrillo’s football team, boys’ distance track coach, and an avid collector of British convertible sports cars (7 in total, which he would regularly lend out to his son and his son’s teenage friends to tool around town). Kent remembered how Dr. Trettin would regularly run downtown to work (5.5mi), run back the long way to Cabrillo (15mi), do the boys’ track workout with them (speed or up to 9mi), then run back to work (7.5mi). Plus, he might throw in a bike ride at lunchtime (“Lunch is for the weak”). As a member of the boys’ track team, Kent and his teammates would argue as to who would have to keep up with Dr. Trettin on that day’s workout. “We can’t let coach beat all of us,” he said.

Kent and I talked for quite a while. By the end of our conversation, though I had never met Dr. Trettin, I too missed this man who was killed at the young age of 46 while cycling through Germany. He touched so many people’s lives and would undoubtedly have touched many more throughout his lifetime.

As I think back on the John Trettin Memorial 5k, it wasn’t about finish times, placings, or awards. It was all about contact: contact with earth, sky, and fellow runners, contact with community, contact with memories.

In talking with Kent, I was reminded of my Sunday morning long run last week, for which a fairly large group of guys and gals, regulars and newbies, had shown up. I had to leave early for an appointment that day, so the pack dropped me off after the “short” loop of 12 miles. As I was driving off, I watched them round the corner into the trees, bodies dappled with sunlight, moving easily, brightly colored, fit, beautiful animals. My heart tugged in their direction as I reluctantly drove away, so wanting to park my car and run after them. Yet I drove away smiling, knowing that for an instant, I had seen something rare and beautiful. Kent and those who knew Dr. Trettin had the privilege of being a part of something special. Something that they caught a glimpse of, but reluctantly had to watch slip away. Yet they can smile, knowing that just for an instant, they had seen something very rare and beautiful.