---
Page 8 University Daily Kansan Friday, April 17. 1959
THE MEN—Five members of the Kansas track team break from the blocks at the start of the 440-yard dash in a pre-meet warm-up session. After an all-winning indoor season, the team moved outdoors in early March and has been working out daily in Memorial Stadium. Today the men will shed their warm-up suits and don the crimson and blue for the big races.
Today Is Theirs
An event like the Kansas Relays sends a thrill of pride down the spine of any man who has ever been a part of the color, speed and achievement that goes with an outdoor track meet on a warm spring day.
There is an atmosphere of urgency even for the sophomore from the little town in western Kansas who knows he can finish no better than fourth or fifth against the great names gathered from all across the nation.
But he is proud, for he is a part of this great spectacle that has been handed down to our generation from other generations dating back to the time of the Ancient Greeks.
And he is proud too, for the fact, that regardless of the outcome, he has earned the right to compete. He has earned his spot in the blocks on the cinder track with endless hours
of running, aching and trying—always trying, for a better time, a better stride, a better race.
The spectator watches and the sight is inspiring. Dozens of gold and blue and red jersied machines, all perfectly tuned, perform like well-trained players on an outdoor stage. The spectator becomes a part of the marvelous play as it unfolds.
But he is only a superficial part of the production, like a necessary prop that gives the thing continuity. For only those who have given the sweat and blood can be a real part of—the players in—this spectacle.
And no matter where they finish, and they all will finish, they are the ones for whom this day has meaning. They are the descendants of the Olympians.
The men who perform today are the products of back-vafd high jumping pits and country school
races. They began to run in street races and sand lot contests.
At one time or another they began to compete on the cinder track. Most of them ran their first race as sophomores or freshmen in high schools. If they were lucky or talented or fast, they participated in a big meet before coming to college.
For some, this is their first appearance before a large crowd. For the old pros, the crowd is no more than a blur of color in the stands as they flash by the stretch. But for all who compete, it is not the crowd, but the event itself that provides the extra something that inspires outstanding performances.
When they gather on the track or in the field for their particular events, the atmosphere is charged. This is the day for the fast time or the big jump. This is the day of the relays.
They're off.
By George DeBord
What makes him run, go chuggin' around that cinder track like a race horse with his head held high? It isn't the glory 'cause he might be last, but God how that kid runs and nothin' catches him but time.
What makes his spikes dig in like life was there and only speed could free it from the dirt? It isn't the glory 'cause he might be last, but look at him swing by the stretch with long sure strides.
What makes him do it, that crazy kid with his legs turned rubber while his arms pump time? It isn't the glory 'cause he might be last, but oh how he bears down and the cinders fly.
God, oh God, where is the air, he's being passed and the strength is gone, his lungs explode in pain. It isn't the glory'cause he might be last, but run sick Greek, the world leaves you behind.
What makes these turns so far apart, and the stretch so long between, the legs are wood, now pain, oh God! It isn't the glory 'cause he might be last, but churn your stomach and bring forth fresh new blood.
The tape is broken and he's not there, but the cinders crunch beneath his lead-soled shoes. It isn't the glory 'cause he might be last, but of the race is life, and next time he will do it.
Running
TRACKMEN — The opposition on the left and the man who carries the hopes of KU on the right.
Ready