Crimson's Cross-Country Runners

THERE are not many teams at Harvard that would warm up for a match by doing a bizarre set of exercises called 'The Titanic Twelve"--contortions which include squat-thrusts, double burbies, sit-ups-and-leg-overs.

Even fewer would get such great delight from watching television cartoons ranging from 'George of the Jungle" to "Spider Man" the morning before a crucial away contest.

Fewer still would parade through a pre-game football crowd singing "Harvardiana" after a Saturday victory. But then, the cross country team is a singular one.

Perhaps part of the difference can be attributed to the sport itself. It seems hard to understand why anyone would want to go out and just run. Even runners themselves have difficulty explaining why they do it. One emphasizes the challenge of pure competition; another talks of the esthetic appeal of running on a beach alone; a third mentions the satisfaction of physical fatigue.

Yet all the responses seem inadequate. The question "Why?" is never really answered. Because of this uncertainty and because everyone else regards them as slightly curious, cross country runners tend to consider themselves eccentric, or at least uninhibited. They all grew accustomed to being chased by dogs and mocked by little kids long ago. Hence, the exercises, the cartoons, and the singing seem perfectly in order.

Except for the common bonds of distance running and the lack of group inhibitions, the members of this year's cross country team would have little in common. They are as diverse as any group of Harvard students.

Doug Hardin, the captain, is a Group II quantum chemist who play an instrument called the viola da Gamba in a Baroque trio. He spent half of last summer working for the Atomic Energy Commission and half training with the U.S. Olympic Team at South Lake Tahoe, Calif. Doug likes the poetry and art of William Blake and has filled the walls of his Winthrop House room with prints of Blakian angels and devils. "Dauntless Doug," as Coach McCurdy calls him, is the team's foremost expert on the philosophy and psychology of running.

Tim McLoone is the comedian and entertainer. Just when his teammates were beginning to tire of his Ed Sullivan routine, along came a new batch of sophomores for an audience. "Spider," who picked up his nickname from his uncontrolled running style, spent the summer as a singer-pianist at a club in New Jersey. A lifelong fan of rock-and-roll music and pop culture, McLoone had his finest hour when he appeared at a party last winter in his complete Superman costume.

ROYCE Q. SHAW, a junior from Los Angeles, spends a lot of time practicing folk guitar. Nicknamed "Royce the Voice" for his ebullient, confident nature when discussing the cross country sport, Shaw has just begun to adapt to long-distance running. It is probably more than coincidence that Roy ran his two best races when his girl from Wellesley was present to provide inspiration. (Teammates are talking about chipping in to pay her way to the big meets in New York.) The holder of Harvard's indoor mile record, Royce is an explosive runner, but still is not used to running the steady, aggressive race that Hardin has mastered.

Erik Roth is used to being in the shadow of his roommates Shaw and Keith Colburn, who holds the University record in the half-mile. The quiet, rangy Minnesotan is famous for finding last-minute dates for the Saturday night parties which are rapidly becoming a cross-country tradition. "Elf" puts a lot of thought into his running and wrote a number of lengthy, detailed letters to his teammates last summer.

John Heyburn is a tall, sturdy runner who was a pleasant surprise for last year's championship team, finishing third for Harvard in the crucial Heptagonal meet. John had a disappointing season on the track last year but seems to thrive on the longer distances of cross-country. He has already made significant improvement on his best home course time of last fall.

Dave Pottetti, a flashy sophomore from Pound Ridge, N.Y., was actively recruited by Penn, Yale, and Princeton before deciding on Harvard. "Peerless Pete" is the holder of the freshman two mile record and was beaten to the mile record by a fraction of a second by his roommate, Jon Enscoe. Pottetti is easily the loosest, most relaxed runner on the team. His long-range goal is to make the Olympic squal as a steeplechaser.

Arlington's Tom Spengler contributes sarcasm to cross country joke sessions and consistent, unspectacular running to meets. Quiet, serious Howie Foye combines with lanky Max Schweizer and "Palo Alto Fats" Enscoe to form a solid supporting cast of sophomores.

IN GENERAL, cross country runners are a self-sufficient lot. There is no necessity that they work together during a contest, at least not in the same way that a shortstop and second baseman must. And there is always an undercurrent of keen competition among team members. Coach McCurdy keeps detailed records of workout times and meet performances, and most runners are experts at memorizing these statistics and comparing them in a good-natured fashion.

Later in the season, however, everyone knows that the squad of twelve will be cut to seven starters for the championship meets. The scramble of the last seven for two places can underline the differences among team members. But as soon as the squad is selected, the captain and top runners take the lead in smoothing over bitter rivalries; if the team is going to complete the season undefeated and win a few championships besides, diversity and internal competitiveness have to meld into a co-ordinated effort.