Laurel Park is pictured here at the 2005 Great Race 10K
(I'm lucky to have been on the receiving end of running writing from the assembled authors who will contribute to this new column, "Beyond the Chip." Most, if not all, are familiar names in Michigan running through their accomplishments and service to the sport. Drawing from their deep pool of experiences, I expect you'll enjoy each writer's unique voice. Taking turns contributing will be Laurel Park, Ann Forshee-Crane, Paul Aufdemberge, Laura Murphy, Ian Forsyth and Robin Sarris-Hallop. - Scott Hubbard)

Steve Yzerman's retirement from the Detroit Red Wings after 22 years, the last 20 of them as captain, provoked an outpouring of tributes, reminiscences and accolades.

Yet among all the testimonials to his talents, toughness, heart and durability, there was one underlying constant: Through his conduct and attitude, on and off the ice, Yzerman was a credit to his team, to his organization and to the city of Detroit.

This sentiment was expressed by teammates, competitors, legends of the game, announcers and pretty much anyone involved in the NHL for the past 50 years. To put it simply, the man was a class act.

To me, there's no higher compliment. The respect one earns through that reputation far exceeds anything gained from records or performances. It colors other achievements too - great accomplishments shine brighter in the warm glow of respect. While I admire some athletes based on talent alone, I respect those who combine talent with class.

The reputation extends by association to the athlete's sport and organization. Like it or not, when you're a member of a team, an organization or even linked with a certain sport, your behavior reflects upon those entities. And it's not just the superstars or high-profile professionals. I doubt that all college lacrosse players are sex-crazed louts, but thanks to the actions of a few players at Duke the sport was subject to scathing national publicity earlier this year.

Having worn a Michigan uniform, I'm personally offended when I see someone whose behavior is an embarrassment to the "block M." (Apparently U-M administrators share my feelings, given former football coach Gary Moeller's fate following his unfortunate drunken encounter with police a few years ago).

Similarly, I cringe on the rare occasions when I see runners act in a manner that gives us all a bad name. People tend to form generalized opinions based on just a few first-hand experiences, so while you might talk yourself blue in the face trying to convince your neighbor that not all runners are reckless maniacs, all she is going to remember is the supplex-clad idiot who dashed in front of her car on Main Street, then gave her the "middle-finger salute."

I'm guilty of it, too. Even though my husband and his friends are cautious, rule-abiding cyclists, I still grouse about the idiots on commuter bikes who blast through "Stop" signs or scare the wits out of elderly pedestrians on the sidewalk.

And it only takes one negative incident to cement an opinion. Many years ago I participated in a large, well-known road race. While waiting in the porta-john line, I saw a woman open the door of an occupied unit, inadvertently exposing the hapless (and short-less) occupant.

The door was not locked and I assume it was an honest mistake. Upon emerging, however, the occupant - a famous runner - proceeded to give the woman a thorough tongue-lashing. This runner has received a lot of publicity over the years for charity work, and I suspect is generally a pretty decent human being, but my opinion will be forever colored by that brief incident.

I try to keep this in mind when I'm at races, or even just out on my daily run. Like it or not, I realize that when I'm out on the streets, to the non- running citizens I encounter along the way, I represent all of my running brethren. So I try to be polite and considerate; obeying traffic lights, getting out of the way of motorists, and saying "hi" to the people I see.

At races, I think of myself as a guest in the community and try to act in a manner that will ensure a return invitation. Many races exist through the benevolence of the communities in which they are held, and it doesn't take more than a couple of negative experiences to test that relationship.

Many years ago, residents living near Dexter High School complained loudly (and legitimately) about Dexter-Ann Arbor Half-Marathon participants "answering the call of nature" in lawns and shrubs. Admittedly, when you gotta go, you gotta go, but the race committee made it a point to add porta-johns and to emphasize the importance of using them.

When I am doing my post-race cooldown, I try to stay out of everyone's way and thank volunteers on the course, who are often people from the community. I also try to be gracious to fellow runners, which usually isn't hard because one of the best aspects of racing is seeing old friends and making new ones. Obviously we're there to compete, and frankly yes, I do want to beat you, my dear, but once the race is over, I also want to be able to chat with you and maybe jog a leisurely cool-down together - regardless of the outcome.

Luckily, runners as a group tend to be intelligent people who think before they act and try to set a good example for others. Of course, we're all human and have a bad day now and then. I suspect we have all said or done things we regret - I certainly have a few memories that make me cringe.

But I look to the people whom I admire as role models and do my best to emulate their behavior. I also take note of behavior that is embarrassing, and try to learn from that example.

Victories and PRs fade, but class and respect endure. MR