Cross-country gaining steam

At the blast of a whistle, the cross-country runners hovering over the starting line at Chicago's Dunbar Vocational Career Academy shot forward, a churning mass of basketball high-tops and knee-scraping shorts beginning a 21/2-mile race in a dead sprint.

"Slow down!" a coach yelled. "You're going to burn out!"

Last week's race was an apt illustration of how a once-obscure activity in Chicago Public Schools is speeding into the mainstream, fueled more by energy than experience. Since 2005, the number of runners in the city championships has more than doubled, making cross-country one of the district's most popular sports.

Veteran coaches attribute the growth to a wave of newcomers who have established new teams or rejuvenated moribund ones in all corners of the city. They've ushered hundreds of teens into the sport despite ample challenges, from schools too broke to afford uniforms to training runs interrupted by gang fights.

"Some kids have to run through gang neighborhoods, parks where who knows what is going on, and they're doing it," said Whitney Young coach Bob Geiger. "They're out running where a lot of people wouldn't go for a walk."

The talent level is rising along with participation — the boys team at Jones College Prep won a state championship last year, the first CPS cross-country title in nearly 50 years — but advocates for the sport say its benefits go far beyond trophies.

It lets city kids who aren't star athletes experience competition and personal improvement. It gives them something to do in neighborhoods often bereft of recreational opportunities. And with 1 in 4 CPS students classified as obese, a rate substantially higher than the national average, it can serve as the entry to a life of fitness and good health.

"I hope that they feel good," said Angela Lou, a first-year coach at Farragut Career Academy. "I hope they experience a runner's high. I hope they have something to do after school instead of just going home and watching TV. I hope they feel more invested in their school, in doing something positive for themselves."

To get an idea of how cross-country has taken hold in Chicago, drop by Gage Park High on the city's Southwest Side.

The school had only a small girls team six years ago when Krystian Weglarz accepted a teaching job there. A marathoner and triathlete, Weglarz expanded the program by recruiting boys and girls who enrolled in his technology class, pitching the idea that running can be fun.

It was not an easy sell. The dense, sometimes violent neighborhood surrounding the school isn't exactly a hotbed of jogging, and the sport had little visibility or tradition at Gage Park. But a few kids decided to give it a try, and through word of mouth, Weglarz built a small but viable program.

"These are not cross-country stars ... but they're getting all the benefits of running," Weglarz said. "It's very, very awesome to see."

One recent afternoon, eight boys and five girls ran a few half-mile laps around the school under the watch of yellow-vested Safe Passage workers. The team does longer training runs on the sidewalk along 57th Street, scampering past rows of small bungalows and graffiti-blasted commercial buildings, but Weglarz must be cautious in choosing a route.

His runners once came upon a teen brawl raging at a nearby park, he said. Other days, when there had been a shooting in the neighborhood, the team stayed inside and ran through the hallways.

"I feel safe as long as I don't see any gangbangers on the corner," said senior Jocelyne Fernandez, 17. "We're never alone. If something happens, someone will be there."

Other safety concerns also weigh on the minds of CPS cross-country coaches. Rachel Ward, who leads Austin's boys team, said she has had her athletes do laps around a school field since a run at nearby Columbus Park ended with a boy stepping on a broken beer bottle. A shard of glass penetrated his shoe and went into his foot.

Equipment is another problem. Some schools do not provide uniforms, forcing coaches to fundraise or go without. And proper running shoes, which can cost more than $100, are an unaffordable luxury for many families, leading some kids to run in basketball shoes or gym sneakers.

Then there's funding. The union contract awards cross-country coaches one of the lowest stipends of any CPS sport — they're paid for a maximum of 65 hours of work, compared with 240 hours for a head football or basketball coach — and some say that could eventually imperil the gains.

"You are going to see a lot of these new coaches eventually leave," said Jones coach Andrew Adelmann, who estimates that he puts around 500 hours into his program annually. "You're putting up with so much, you'll eventually hit the point where you'll say it's not worth it."

But the biggest gripe of some coaches is what they see as a lack of support from the central office.

While CPS schedules competitions for most sports, cross-country coaches must find their own races. They need to enter six to be eligible for Illinois High School Association events at the end of the season, and that can mean staging their own meets or scraping up the cash for invitational entry fees.

"We're always out there searching," said Monalisa Georgopoulos, the coach at Kennedy High School. "Everything we're searching for usually costs money."

CPS officials responded that the district offers a few meets each year but that leaving the bulk of scheduling to the coaches allows them to find competitions best suited to their teams' levels.

Despite the obstacles, the teams make it work. They do fundraisers to buy uniforms, while an organization called the Winged Foot Foundation distributes 100 pairs of running shoes to CPS cross-country athletes each year.

And one way or another, they get their races. The Dunbar meet, which was free to participating schools, attracted 13 teams whose athletes were driven by all sorts of motivations. Some said they wanted to be with their friends, get in shape for sports such as basketball or just have something to do after class.

"I'm an active kid," said Brandon Marshall, 15, a North Lawndale College Prep sophomore with bright red hair and a tattoo on his shoulder that reads R.I.P. Tony. "I don't like being still."

Some brought up the idea of winning a college scholarship to run cross-country, a prize claimed by perhaps a dozen city athletes each year. But the sport has changed lives in other ways, too.

Take Elizabeth Bueno. The 17-year-old was a middle-of-the-pack runner her freshman year at Gage Park before getting hooked on the small victories offered by the sport — steady improvement, personal records, school records. By the end of her sophomore season she was one of the best on the team.

Weglarz saw Bueno's commitment and encouraged her to expand her academic horizon, too. She ended up getting a scholarship through an organization called A Better Chance that has allowed her to attend Edina High School, a scholastic and athletic powerhouse in the Minneapolis suburbs.

She's still doing cross-country there, though her times have put her on the "C" team, a notch below junior varsity. She doesn't mind. The sport has already given her a blueprint on how to persevere.

"Running has made me a better person," she said. "When you run over a hill, you learn you have to work hard to get over it. Any problems in my life, running's way harder. How could you not get over those problems if you got over that hill?"

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