The Palisadian-Post presents an homage to Will Rogers’ column, “Will Rogers Says,” with a column by Palisadian Jimmy Dunne—on life in the “greatest town in America.” Here is the column that ran in the July 11 edition.
Our Town’s Run
Runs.
Kind of a funny thing.
You take off from a place—and, after a while, you end up in exactly the same place you started.
Truth is, it couldn’t be anything farther from what it is.
Here’s what I mean.
I thought about it at our town run. The 4th of July run.
Here’s what it is in a nutshell.
Three thousand three hundred of the most amazing, lovely people on the planet all get up along with the chirping birds and run around the most stunning homes in town—just thinking about how absolutely wonderful life is.
But let’s go back. From the beginning. None of it was by accident.
A rich history, chock-full of Palisadian legends.
It started in 1977 and has evolved into one of the most popular 5 & 10 Ks in California and the country.
Back in the 1970s, a group of spectacular Palisadian dads ran together, sharing a common bond—a love of running.
They called themselves—“The Ridgerunners.”
They got up and ran together at the crack of dawn to peek in the window of our hometown hero, Will Rogers.
They ran along the Santa Monica Ridge, overlooking the most stunning town—snuggled and cuddled between the mountains and the big, blue Pacific ocean.
As legend has it, one Sunday morning on a picnic bench together on San Vincente Boulevard, after a bunch of the guys were in a 10K race in neighboring Brentwood, they imagined the same idea for the Palisades.
But I’ll bet what Brian Shea and his best buddies imagined for the Palisades was so much more than a race.
So much more than top runners sprinting across a finish line.
I’m pretty sure they imagined what I was privileged to see last week—on that glorious, truly magical 4th of July morning …
I’ll bet they imagined a dad proudly running right alongside his fourth-grade school kid—crisscrossing the tree-covered Huntington streets.
And a cheering Grandpa and Grandma standing on their curb handing out cups of water to thirsty, thankful runners galloping by.
And a couple of high school runners with big hearts and strides, wearing their school’s name across their chests—hoping to make their alma mater, their parents and themselves proud.
And a mom pushing a stroller with the most precious cargo in the absolute world in front of her—letting her baby know they will forever run and tackle life together—and that she’ll be there, no matter what.
And this town will be there for them, too.
Or a single man stepping into the backside of his 80s. Finding himself without his partner by his side. They ran—and then walked the race every year together.
He’s doing it alone for the first year.
But he’s not.
Maybe he’s not keeping up with everybody else in the race, but he’s in the race.
He bought his number.
Walking along, he’s seeing his wife in the faces of kids and families on the curbs he’s passing; knowing how she touched their lives. He’s seeing her as he rounds the corner of the church where they spent every single Sunday, and then some with their best pals.
He’s with her, alright.
That’s why he got up to do the run/walk. That’s why he’s wearing those socks she liked so much.
For her.
To let her know how much it hurts him every day that she’s not there by his side doing this, not doing life together.
I’ll bet that’s what those guys were thinking about, sitting there, in the quiet. Thinking about what a race in the Palisades could be.
That’s what you earn with truly great friends. Quiet.
Moments when it’s OK just to think. Just to dream.
I’ll bet they did just that.
Time sure flies, doesn’t it?
We see it in our kids’ lives, in our own lives. We notice it most on birthdays. On holidays.
We realize how fast this journey is going, this incredible at-bat at life that we have. This one swing.
Sometimes, in looking back at pictures, at videos, at plaques, we’re reminded of things that stop us. For just a second.
To pause. To breathe.
There’s a plaque at Will Rogers State Historic Park at the drinking fountain. Not a big plaque.
But an important one.
It’s in memory of three of the Ridgerunners: Lynn Borland, Chris Carlson and Dick Lemen.
It says, “There is no friend like an old friend who has shared our morning days, no greeting like his welcome, no homage like his praise.”
That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read about what a friend is.
May we all give thanks to Brian. To all the Ridgerunners.
Of what they dreamed our town could be.
What all of us could be.
And for the canvas they have given us, every 4th of July …
To draw anything we can imagine.
Jimmy Dunne is a modern-day Renaissance Man; a hit songwriter (28 million hit records), screenwriter/producer of hit television series, award-winning author, an entrepreneur—and a Palisadian “Citizen of the Year.” You can reach him at j@jimmydunne.com or jimmydunne.substack.com.