Oh, my, where does the time go? The first time I heard of Todd Williams was in the summer of 1987 at one of the best races in the state, the Redford Roadrunner Classic.

The end-of-July race was always hot and fast, with the best local runners coming to town to show what they had. That year, it was this phenom just out of high school, Todd Williams, who showed everyone his rear end and hinted at the greatness that was in store.

Williams was state cross-country champion at Monroe High in 1985 and 1986, and two-mile track champ in 1987. After kicking butt in Livonia, he went on to become a nine-time all-American at the University of Tennessee and one of the best runners of his, or any, generation. Williams was an Olympian at 10,000 meters in 1992 and 1996, set a U.S. 15K record of 42:23 and half-marathon record of 1:00:11 on the road. He ran the fourth-fastest 10K ever by an American (27:31) and won national titles on the track, roads and in cross-country.

The Classic was held for years in Livonia, moved to Northville for a good stretch, then died a sad death two or three years ago. Races came and went, but Williams remained a constant of U.S. running until he announced his retirement in January.

I was at one of his first road races, and at one of his last: the Fifth Third River Bank 25K in Grand Rapids last May, where he was gracious and witty despite a spectator's mistake that cost him a national title and $2,000.

He and David Morris were neck-and-neck a block from the final turn. The well-meaning spectator shouted the finish line was just around the turn, prompting Williams to unleash a fierce final kick. He rounded the turn with the lead and saw the finish-line banner three loooong blocks away. Before he could get there, the wheels fell off and Morris flew past him to grab the title and $4,000.

"My booty went, 'Whew!'" joked Williams moments after finishing. "Oh, well, if you run 15.5 miles and only 100 yards is bad, you've had a good day."

We'll miss you, Todd. (To read a 1998 story I wrote about Williams, visit www.michiganrunner.com/feb98/williams.html.

~~~

Photo of Doug Goodhue at 2--3 Riverview Winterfest is by Carter Sherline / Frog Prince Studios.

Someone who was told to retire and didn't is thinking of sending an I- told-you-so to the specialist who asked him why he wanted to do such a stupid thing as run in mid-50s.

The someone is Doug Goodhue of Highland, near Milford. He was one of Michigan's best age-group runners in 1996 when he started a 14- month layoff because of a muscle tear in his right calf.

His doctor, as doctors are wont to do with runners, prescribed "quit running." "Why are you so crazy at your age?" he asked when Doug told him his goal was to run again, even if it meant slow times at the back of a pack years hence.

"I got in an argument with him and walked out," remembers Goodhue. "I told him, 'That's not what I wanted to hear.'"

With imagination you can hear Doug's last-laughing, the kind that laughs best. The March issue of Running Times magazine names him the top U.S. runner for 2002 in the 60-64 age group, based on his 19:16 in the Dexter-Ann Arbor 5K, 29:41 at the Allen Park Street Fair 8K, eye- popping 36:03 at Pittsburgh's Great Race 10K, and 1:01:52 at the Cherry Blossom 10-miler.

Goodhue, who turned 61 in February, eventually found the specialists he needed, two therapists named Neil King and Jeff Barnett, who put him through a regimen of grueling deep-tissue massages to break up scar tissue.

Doug didn't run a step. He golfed a lot, wondered if he would ever run again, and went for another massage.

Finally - on Feb. 21, 1997, his 55th birthday - Goodhue went for his first run in 14 months: one mile at nine-minute pace or slower. "I kept waiting for the pain to hit," he recalls. "It didn't."

He went out a couple days later, nervous still, and put in three miles. A few weeks later, he was up to eight miles and convinced at last he was healed.

"It was one of the most-satisfying things in my life," he says of his return to the sport he'd belatedly taken up at age 41 and had grown to love. "Everything fell into place," Doug says of his 2002 racing season. "I had a goal when I turned 60 of being ranked nationally, but had no idea I'd make it to the top."

As for the specialist, Doug says, "Maybe I'll send him a copy of Running Times."

~~~

Congratulations to Kathy Breidinger of Howell and Joe Gregart of Waterford. You won't find their names in Running Times. They haven't been national champions.

But what they do, along others who raise thousands of dollars while training for their first marathons, continues to amaze me.

I coach rookie runners for the American Diabetes Association. Joe's diabetic, so joining "Team D" was good for the cause and his own health too. Kathy doesn't have diabetes, just thought it would help her train for a marathon if she had a reason other than mileage goals.

Neither were runners; both had (and have) full and busy lives. Kathy had had never run with another soul, apart from a 10K, when she joined me and other Team D-ers late last fall. She's a Lansing school teacher, married, trying to remodel a home and going to night school to get her master's.

Joe is a manager for Califonia Closets and works long hours. He'd come home, kiss his three- and five-year-old kids, then run while his family ate dinner. He'd drag his his weary tail home, kiss the kids goodnight, grab dinner and fall in bed.

Both raised close to $5,000 in pledges while doing all that.

Kathy ran 4:31 at the Disney Marathon Jan. 12, and her non-running husband was so inspired by what he saw that he wants to run a marathon too.

As I write this, Joe is preparing for the Feb. 16 Mardi Gras Marathon, where he'll be thrilled with a 4:31.

Nothing special? Wrong.

~~~

Speaking of New Orleans, I was lucky enough to get back there in December for a week at the French Quarter's Le Richelieu Hotel. It's a block from the Esplanade, a boulevard with a wide grassy strip down the middle, with a running path through resplendent mansions and towering monster oaks.

There's a nearby bike/running path on the levee of the Mississippi River, as well as a wonderful open-air market.

Races, which abound here, have a 1980s feel including beer at the finish line. Such amenities are rare today in Michigan, especially during morning runs, but were common back in the day.

They still are in The Big Easy. We did a Christmas-themed two-mile night race through City Park, then the Old Man River 10K the next morning on the levee.

Both rewarded runners with kegs of the cold stuff at the finish, and the 10K passed out beer mugs to age-group winners.

Ahh, for the good old days, or the good new (Orleans) days. MR