Paul Merriman's seven grown children have arrived from as far away as Vermont to celebrate their 85-year-old father's having run 50,000 miles.
They've set up a portable canopy in Memorial Park and lined a section of the new Outer Loop Trail with Burma Shave-style signs - "See Paul run! 50,000." A whimsical cake decorated with a runner in a red shirt, sweat band and socks sits on a table, surrounded by individual Rice Krispies treats shaped to spell out "Paul's 50,000." There's a banner, too, and everyone is taking photos of each other in their red "Paul Merriman's 50,000th Mile" T-shirts.
But right now the proud former Marine has turned away from the festivities to encourage a group of Marine ROTC cadets jogging on the new Outer Loop Trail.
"Semper fi!" he yells, waving a fist and repeating the Marine Corps motto as each one goes by. His children join in the fun, yelling, "He's done 50,000! You have only 49,999 to go!"
Truth is, Merriman had run 50,031 miles at that point, passing the benchmark a few days before his April 11 birthday.
When I first met with Merriman in 2007, he was approaching 45,000 miles. He and I, he said, were "runners for life," and as we walked a loop of the Seymour Lieberman trail, he explained how exercise was the good habit he had used to replace some bad ones, including smoking, drinking and working too much.
And yes, he had kept track of every mile since 1967, not missing a day the first eight years. He and his family celebrated every 5,000 miles with a cake baked by his wife, Pat Merriman, who died in late 2009 after a bout with Alzheimer's disease and a broken hip.
"It's a positive addiction," Merriman says when we speak a few days after the most recent party.
"I like to say, 'If I'm mad at you when I go out running, I'm not mad at you when I come back.' "
Merriman has his aches and pains and isn't accumulating the miles as quickly as when he was training for marathons (his personal best is 3:28). But he tries to get in four miles every other day.
"I get lazy. If it's raining, I don't go. But I need to go, so I go, and once I get out there, I get glad I went," he says.
Merriman recently started using a radio and headphones, but that's enough company for him. He always exercises solo.
"I like the quietness, the aloneness, the non-pressure of the open road," he explains. "There's something redeeming about being out running by yourself."
At the party, surrounded by his children and some of their children, Merriman says he's a happy man. He walks a ceremonial mile, breaks a tape held across the path by two of his children and receives a big red medal proclaiming "50,000 miles."
He's proud of his accomplishment, sure, but is more pleased to see his family enjoying each other, healthy - and active.
"That's part of the satisfaction for me," he explains later. "When I started, nobody did it. Now it's a joy to watch them do something."
His son Paul Merriman Jr., a Houston marathon veteran, agrees.
"I would just say his legacy over the years will be that he influenced hundreds of people to run - not to win or place, but for the fun and health aspects," he said.
"(This past weekend), three of his children were in organized races, including my sister Polly's first half-marathon in Virginia at age 58. He is still inspiring people."
I would expect no less of a runner for life.
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