Meb Keflezighi won the marathon silver medal in the 2004 Olympics.
Trivia: What is an Ekiden?

ENIGMA. Tim Layden's Oct. 31 Sports Illustrated article "I am an American" starts, "Ethiopian-born Meb Keflezighi has lived in the U.S. for 18 years and even won an Olympic medal for his adopted country. Maybe if he wins the New York City Marathon next week, he'll finally shed his image as a foreigner." If Meb had won (he finished a good third), his image as a foreigner may have blurred some but remained largely unaffected. Being extended the rights and privileges of a U.S. citizen in 1998, setting a U.S. 10,000 meters record on the track, and winning an Olympic silver medal while wearing American colors is one thing, undeniable and a matter of public record for Keflezighi. Image, however, is quite a different thing. Images are typically one-dimensional in a three-dimensional world. Time, familiarity and shared experiences help us round out images. The more we learn about something, the more we see it for what it is, modified and filtered through many perspectives. As native-born Americans learn more about Meb, his image as a foreigner will soften. Meb isn't alone as a naturalized citizen whose foreign roots can be hard to separate from their accomplishments. Mbarak Hussein, from Kenya, and Colleen DeReuck, from South Africa, are masters runners currently winning U.S. road championships outright. Khalid Khannouchi, from Morocco, holds the American record and is a former world record-holder in the marathon. Mark Plaatjes, from South Africa, won a marathon gold medal for the U.S. in the 1993 World Championships. Bernard Lagat, of Kenya, set a U.S. track record in 2005. Sydney Maree, of South Africa, set U.S. track records for one mile, 2,000, 3,000 and 5,000 meters in the 1980s. Unlike Meb, all mentioned moved to America as adults, inflating their "foreignness" and the resistance many have toward acknowledging their U.S. achievements. Although annexed to Ethiopia before he was born, Eritrea was "more than a decade into an ensuing war of independence, and Meb's always considered himself an Eritrean, not Ethiopian," says his brother and agent, Merhawi. Meb wants to be considered an Eritrean, not Ethiopian, welcomed as an American, not just as an Eritrean; a conundrum. Right or wrong, this is the way it is; borders are divisive. Whether here or in another country, the sentiment toward foreigners is the same; they're like us but not one of us. This position, I feel, goes a long way towards explaining 1972 Olympic marathon gold medalist Frank Shorter's answer to a question in SI why he hasn't sent fellow U.S. medalist Keflezighi a congratulatory note: "I'm not going to talk about it." It's Frank's call to make, literally and figuratively, but he shouldn't be surprised if his oblique response is used to symbolize a domestic "Ugly American" posture toward foreigners. Shorter was born in Munich. Right or wrong, natives often attach mental asterisks (it's theirs, not ours) to works of those they perceive as foreign. We're protective and proud of all things homegrown and slow to embrace contributions from non-natives. They may be just lines on a map, gates along some road, but borders can turn neighbors into aliens, exotic and different. The sooner we can gain an appreciation for those differences, or "stubborn labels" as Layden calls them, the better for all concerned.

A SLOW HURRY. When I heard John Bingham, better know as The Penguin, had written about former marathon world record holder Steve Jones in the December 2005 Runner's World, I thought, "I don't ever, but I've got to take a look at his column this month." Why don't I ever? Bingham doesn't write things that interest or inspire me. I'm not his audience. His writing about Jones seemed diametrically opposed to his usual focus on runners at the back of the pack. As Bingham put it in the article, they make for an "odd couple" at race seminars. They do, indeed, make for contrary images, poster subjects for the effects of oil on water. It's unlikely I'll become a regular reader of The Penguin who ends his columns with, "Waddle on, friends," but I confess he did an exceptional job of describing what makes a guy like "Jonesy" tick. "One day in his life, Oct. 21, 1984, Jonesy was the best that ever lived," wrote Bingham. "He ran a world-record 2:08:05 in Chicago. His relentless focus had paid off. "It's hard for me to imagine the courage it takes to pursue such a dream," The Penguin continued. "Yet, having stood next to Jonesy, I believe the rest of us just aren't asking enough of ourselves. We are limited most by our imaginations - or more precisely, our lack of imagination. We tend to see ourselves only as we are, not as we might be. "Most of us will never be the world's best at anything, but we could all be better at something if we had the drive to push beyond our comfort zone, whether it be a 30-minute 5K or a step up the corporate ladder. If Jonesy taught me anything at those seminars, it's that we're all capable of seemingly-unattainable goals." More so in the past dozen years it seems as if the worlds of performance and participatory running are parallel to each other with a widening gap. I was reminded of this when I attended the 2005 NCAA Division 1 Cross Country Championships Nov. 21 in Terre Haute, Ind. In what's the deepest, fastest field of men in an American race, the 253rd and last-place guy covered the 10K course in 35:02. The last- place runner in this meet could win or threaten at most local races. It's obviously a field of motivated athletes who regularly test their limits. So many run by so fast, it's mesmerizing and exhilarating. For the most part, running was male dominated and about a pursuit for fast times and spirited competition until the mid 1970s. A number of factors then coincided and evolved, spinning an all-inclusive, every- runner-a-winner way of thinking from the traditional hardcore approach. The ratio of serious-vs.-recreational runners of 10-1 has been reversed. This, along with the acceptance of women runners in the same era, has been a boon to the sport. It's the all-inclusive world Bingham knows and that knows him best. For a guy who has written a book called "No Need for Speed," I give The Penguin thumbs-up for recognizing and sharing how fast runners think.

Answer: An Ekiden is the Japanese word for a marathon (or longer) road relay. MR