It all started with Sheina Danty. Now don't go racking your brains trying to figure out whether she was the first baseman on the 1998 U.S. Olympic Softball team (that was Sheila Douty) or the singer of that rhythmic song "Morning Train" in 1981 (that was Sheena Easton). My Sheina is slightly less famous. However, she's the one that sent me down the wonderfully exhilarating road of competitive running. She also sent me down the path of male racing chauvinism but I couldn't help that. What do you expect from a nine year old?

It was fourth grade field day, many years ago, when boys were ridiculously silly and girls were kept at a safe distance for fear of cooties. A time, even without Title IX, when boys raced against girls in the same event. Mano a Womano!

Now I must confess that my athletic career pretty much peaked before I knew long division. Up to that point, I'd been the sprinting sensation of the elementary school crowd. A virtual Maurice Greene of the playground people. But that was B.S. Before Sheina.

Seems somebody forgot to tell this new cheetah-like student that I had a monopoly on the gold ribbon in the fifty-yard dash. Sheina left me in the dust while I ungraciously protested that she false started, that transfer students needed to sit out a year to gain their Field Day eligibility and that we should demand to see her birth certificate. I did get a temporary moment of sanity, which allowed me to stop just short of demanding a urine specimen. Despite my protests the victory stood and I was forced to decide over the next year whether I'd feign injury come fifth grade Field Day, limit myself to the softball toss event or devote myself to lacing up my P.F. Flyers a little tighter and perfecting my speed.

I chose the latter but much to my dismay, my competitor opted for the shuttle run and long jump the next year and bypassed the fifty. Apparently she had no clue of the competitive battle that had been raging in my pre-pubescent brain for 365 days. She couldn't do that! Where was my retribution! The integrity of providing a rematch to the vanquished champion? It wasn't to be found on the dirt field behind the gym where I was left to claim a hollow victory.

But it was there that the seeds of my less than admirable psyche of never wanting to lose to a female, in a foot race, had taken root. The beauty of my self-imposed ridiculous challenge was that by middle school, boys and girls were placed onto separate sports teams and never the twain shall track meet. Thus, I never had to deal with both acne and losing big time to some local high school mile female phenom. Now that I'm older, I realize the errors of my childish ways. There is obviously an abundance of women more athletic and much faster than me, and I should just accept their kicking my butt in a race. But I can't. Old habits die hard. Blame it on Sheina! The problem became that road racing brought me back to that old elementary school lineup. The one where those fast members of the female species were now right next to me and represented the Sheina of my youth--ready, willing and able to whoop me big time.

Being only slightly more mature than a nine year old, I had to begin rationalizing. I was at first all right at the local races and could still come in ahead of my female competition. But, with the larger races, I had to come up with my bag of exceptions. Initially, there was, of course, the Olympic Athlete exception so when I lost to Olympian Joan Samuelson at the Bix 7 or Greta Waitz at the New York City Marathon, well, that was all quite acceptable.

However, as the years went on, and losses mounted, I was required to become more creative with my excuses. Much to my female racers' dismay, I was often required to engage in post race interrogation of the women that beat me. I needed to determine whether they fell within my They Had a College Track Scholarship exception or the They Tapered For This Race justification. Now as I get older, and faster women continuously arrive to defeat me, I know I've got to become even more innovative in rationalizing my losses. Perhaps the She's More than Half My Age exception will ultimately be forced to give way to the She's At the Lower End of My Age Bracket excuse. Only time and more Sheinas will tell.