I run with this guy sometimes. -
Think about long-distance running: the painful, arduous, repetitive, volitional task of putting one foot in front of the other. Even if you're a cross between Kip Keino, Frank Shorter and Khalid Khannouchi, those first five minutes are absolute hell for many of us, shaking out creaky hips, achy knees and piano-wire-tight hamstrings.
Now think of running every day for a year. Sick, perhaps, but then think about running every day for 20 years. Impossible, you might say. But try to go even further, if you possibly can, and imagine running 10 miles every day for 20 years!
We offer this nightmarish portrait as a way to introduce you to Dr. Ken Roth, former chief of staff at Scripps Memorial Hospital — a seemingly sane, obviously healthy 45-year-old gentleman who calls Del Mar home.
At about 7:15 a.m. on July 28, 2001, Roth stepped outside his house, ran nine miles through Rancho Santa Fe, swam five 100-yard laps at the Lomas Santa Fe Country Club, then jogged the final mile home. It marked 20 straight years of running, on average, 10 miles a day. That's 73,000 miles, enough to circumnavigate the Earth via the equator nearly three times.
Roth didn't stop there. He continued his running streak and this year, on July 28, he celebrated 21 straight years of running 10 miles every day — another 3,650 miles.
"I'm nuts. I'm telling you, I'm out there. I've gotten so compulsive that if I don't take my run first thing in the morning, I'm neurotic the rest of the day," the 5-foot-7, 130-pound Roth says, elaborating on the obvious.
No doubt some of you are mumbling under you breath right now, saying, "The guy's full of it. He's missed a day. Probably missed three or four."
To those doubting Thomases, Roth says, "They can talk to my wife."
"I've been married to him for 17 years," says Colleen Roth. "I dated him for four years prior to that. I'm sure there are a lot of non-believers, but I can vouch for him running every day. Some friends ask me, `How can you let him go when he's sick?' I say, `How can I not?' I don't have control over him."
Roth adds, "I ran on my wedding day. I ran on the day my kids were born. Colleen begged me not to run on certain days, saying, `You can't. You can't.' We've had little tussles. But I was bullheaded and went out and did it."
That's just scratching the surface on the tales that encompass Roth's streak. The guy has jogged in a Colorado cow pasture. He jogged on a cruise ship. He jogged with his arm in a sling. He jogged with a 101-degree temperature. He jogged in minus-60 degree wind chill.
"You can run through almost anything," says Roth.
His commitment to running dates back to 1976, the summer before his junior year at New York's Binghamton University. Earlier that summer, with no preparation, Roth ran a 12K, pushing himself so hard he wound up flat on his back in a hospital, getting intravenous fluids to combat dehydration.
Knowing his family had a history of heart problems, Roth started running regularly, beginning with two miles every other day around a track. Within four years, he logged his first marathon.
The formative years of Roth's running streak deserve bonus points because he was serving his internship in Buffalo. Western New York is not exactly the ideal spot to log a winter 10-miler — unless you're a polar bear. He began the streak on July 28, 1981 after being frustrated the previous year because he had missed a whopping six days of running.
"I guess the streak is just a threshold to measure what your excuse is for not running," he says.
Mind you, Roth is not one of those plodding, geeky runners in baggy sweats and headband. The guy can motor. His marathon personal best is 2:44 and change. He's run Boston, and he's clocked a 34:03 in the 10K. As he reached his 30s, however, he knew the PRs were a thing of the past and decided to change his emphasis.
"The most important thing to me is waking up and doing it every day," admits Roth. "The goal is just being there."
So what kind of hurdles has he had to clear to keep his streak alive?
First, there's one he DIDN'T clear. About 12 years ago, he was nearing home after a 10-miler and harkened back to his high school days as a hurdler. He tried to fly over a short chain-link fence, caught a toe and took a nasty fall. The prognosis: a hairline fracture of his elbow. He ran with his arm in a sling for a week.
Then there's the winter morning in Buffalo. Roth exited the door on a positively balmy morning with temperatures in the low 40s. With the weather as bright as his sunny disposition, Roth ran to the hospital in shorts and a long-sleeve T-shirt. During the doctor's 36-hour shift, winds howled, clouds darkened and snow fell by the buckets. His shift complete, Roth again dressed in his warm-weather running gear and headed out across the parking lot only to discover the snow inching deeper.
"I thought I could just bushwhack across the lot and as long as my legs were moving I'd get warm," remembers Roth.
He was soon up to his thighs in snow and was forced to alter his course. Luckily, he came across a snowplow working its way down the street; he ran behind the plow for miles.
And it goes on... Once on a family ski trip, Roth woke up at 4 a.m. to get in his run. Unable to see very well in the dark, he ran through a cow pasture. Unsure of his path, he headed toward the airport and ran back and forth parallel to the airport.
On a cruise ship he ran on a track where 11.5 laps equaled a mile. That's 115 laps for a 10-miler. Not wanting to awaken vacationers on another cruise, Roth headed to the top of the boat and ran on the metal deck. One problem: That was right above the ship staff, some of whom didn't take kindly to his 6 a.m. exercise routine and told him to beat it. Incredibly, only once has he had to run on a treadmill to keep the streak alive.
Because he's a doctor, Roth runs with a cell phone and pager, which contributed to his being attacked by a dog. That happened about five years ago when he was running at the picturesque San Elijo Lagoon. A woman was running with three or four dogs when one of them nipped Roth in the thigh. Neither the woman nor the dog apologized.
"She said the dog probably felt threatened by my cell phone," says Roth. "She didn't apologize — not even close. It was like I incited the dog to do it."
Roth's worst injury was a strained hamstring suffered playing tennis. His pace slowed from about 6.5 minutes per mile to 10 minutes.
Describing his gait during that recovery period, Roth says, "I looked crippled, hunched over, kind of dragging my butt up and down."
He admits that common sense told him he shouldn't run, but "I didn't want to lose the streak."
Maintaining the streak has some obvious benefits. The guy's in shape. It also reduces the stress that comes from balancing roles as a father, husband and doctor.
"It's the yin and the yang," he says.
When the streak reached 20 years, Colleen said to Danny, the couple's 11-year-old son, "Maybe Dad will quit running now."
To which Danny replied, "What do you mean? Dad's not going to stop."
And he hasn't.
"To some degree, the streak is who I am," says Roth. "It's part of my personality. I think it makes me a better husband, a better father and a better doctor."
He hopes that his patients, some of whom fight diabetes, heart problems and vascular diseases, might be motivated by his example.
He has no idea when the streak will end. He doesn't know if it will end voluntarily or if his knee or foot or hip will bring the streak to a shattering halt. All he knows is that, come tomorrow morning, he will wake up, stop in the bathroom, get dressed, run 10 miles and know the day has started just fine.