All Saints' uses sports ministry to help our members become close friends. In this way, when those who participate in sports are at worship, it feels more like 'home.' We offer several avenues of sports for youth and adults.

City League Softball Men's 2008 Summer Softball Team - In Partnership With Southeastern University -

Men's Softball Team Summer Schedule
 All Games @ Southwest Field 2
 May 12th - 7 P.M. WON
 May 19th - 8:15 P.M. WON
 June 2nd - 7 P.M. WON
 June 9th - 8:15 P.M. WON
 June 23rd - 8:15 P.M. WON
 June 30th - 6:20 P.M. Rained Out
 July 7th - 6:20 P.M.
July 14th - Playoffs
July 21st - Playoffs

Co-Ed Softball Team Summer Schedule
All Games @ Southwest Field 4
 May 13th - 7 P.M. LOST
 May 27th - 8:15 P.M. TIED 12 to 12
 June 3rd - 7 P.M. WON
 June 10th - 7 P.M. LOST
 June 17th - 8:15 P.M. LOST
 June 24th - Rained Out
 July 1st - TIED 12 to 12
July 8th - Playoffs
July 15th - Playoffs

All Saints' Golf Tournament
February 16, 2008

No Need For Speed by Mr. Gary Ruhle, Member and His Pilgrimage to the Boston Marathon

It was with a sense of relief that I sat down on the plane with my wife, Kay, for the trip to Boston on Saturday morning. It had been a hectic week, but now I could allay all of my concerns about work commitments, trip preparation, travel logistics, etc. and just enjoy the anticipation of what was to come. As John Bingham says, there was “No need for speed.” My qualifying race was where speed was of the essence; Boston was where I could just soak up the experience and not worry about a finishing time.

Our arrival in Boston was joyful, seeing our daughter, Jessica, almost immediately upon entering the terminal at Logan Airport. She was the reason I was there, having encouraged me to start running almost four years ago after she, too, had become devoted to the sport. The day unfolded wonderfully with perfect weather which made our outdoor lunch at a restaurant with a view of Fenway Park all the more enjoyable. Then it was on to the Expo which was well-organized and staffed by exceedingly friendly and helpful staff. The Expo was huge, with every running-related product and service you could imagine and unlimited opportunities for marathon memorabilia. We had come prepared with credit cards locked and loaded and proceeded to stimulate the running world’s economy. I am especially proud of my commemorative jacket which I didn’t have on my original shopping list, but later realized is one the most popular mementoes. I also splurged on a DVD, got Jessica a “My Dad ran the Boston Marathon!” shirt and even bought my running buddy priest, Father Reid, a commemorative shirt.

The race on Monday, however, was always in the back of my mind and I tried not to think about it too much because it always produced a surge of adrenalin. My plan was to above all ENJOY the race. I had already done the hard work when I qualified for it at the Disney marathon in January with a heart-stopping margin of 68 seconds! I wanted Monday’s race to be a celebration without the pressure of accomplishing any goal other than crossing the finish line, but people had been asking me for weeks what I expected my time to be and the competitive urge is strong. I told them that I would like to finish in four hours or less (which is consistent with my previous marathons), but would settle for anything under four and a half hours and gave them a litany of reasons as to why it might take that long (the hills, wanting to take it at an easy pace, etc.). Truthfully, I knew I would have a problem with myself if I didn’t run it in four hours or less. There was also the matter of virtually everyone we know tracking me on-line in real time so the attainment of my goal (or the lack thereof!) would be very publicly displayed. Nonetheless, I felt confident in my state of preparation and, regardless of the final outcome, knew that I was going to have a memorable experience.

I was up early on race day for my pre-race ritual and joined fellow runners on the hotel shuttle for the start of our journey to Hopkinton. Conversation quickly ensued about hometowns, qualifying races, previous trips to Boston, etc. and the common denominator of running created an instant bond among us. My pre-planning for race day soon paid off when we arrived at the subway station and one of my new acquaintances, a young guy from Savannah, realized to his horror that he had brought no money for his fare. I told him not to worry because I had extra cash for such a situation and, after mastering the operation of the ticket machine, we were on our way to downtown Boston.

We caught the buses to Hopkinton at Boston Commons where the atmosphere was a mixture of excitement and orderliness. Proud friends and families took pictures of their runners and helpful volunteers in a party mood directed us to the convoy of buses. The trip went quickly and was again filled with talk of running, including the story of a merchant mariner who lives in the Poconos and trains on a treadmill on his tugboat when he can’t run on terra firma – now that’s dedication to the sport!

Athletes’ Village at Hopkinton High School featured two huge tents which were well-stocked with coffee, bagels, sports drinks, fruit, etc. The best amenity, however, was the free massage in the gym courtesy of a local spa which did wonders by both loosening the muscles and relaxing the mind. The festive mood from Boston Commons carried over to the Village and even the weather reflected our spirits as it changed from cold and overcast to cool and clear. All carbed up and hydrated it was soon time to head to the starting line downtown with the other 11,000 fellow runners in my wave.

Arriving at the line of corrals we confronted a solid mass of humanity moving in both directions on either side of a street which was only 39 feet wide. I finally got to my corral and almost immediately we surged forward towards the starting line as the corrals compressed. I barely had time to thank God for being there before we started moving again and began our 26.2 mile adventure to Boston.

The scene at the starting line was like a movie with screaming spectators, TV cameras, press photographers and, of course, a sea of runners. The crowd encouraged us by name whenever they saw it on us and kids lined the streets wanting high-fives as we passed, their parents cheering us from behind. There were spectators lining almost the entire route and all of them were enthusiastic and encouraging, many with home-made signs in their front yards. Being a local holiday (Patriots’ Day) added to the crowds and the festive mood with people picnicking and partying throughout the course, obviously making a day of it and enjoying a free front row seat at a major sporting event. Runners availed themselves of the many unofficial refreshments being offered which included water, candy, fruit and beer (I saw one runner drain a 12-ounce can of beer at about mile 15!).

As for me, I kept to my plan of taking on either water or Gatorade at almost every station set up at one mile intervals, along with a steady stream of sport beans and gel to keep my electrolytes up. I also resisted the temptation to go out fast in the early few miles which is made especially tantalizing by being downhill. Chet Brojek had given me good advice about breaking the race down into five-mile splits to measure my pace. The math was easy because I wanted to maintain nine minute miles (five miles = 45 minutes) and, as in other races, I utilized my GPS which gives me constant pace data.

I was able to settle into my long-distance groove early and, even with the crowded start, didn’t feel boxed in as I have in the early stages of other races; so it was easier to establish a rhythm. Running through the series of towns in the first half of the race really made the time pass quickly and enjoyably, but the quaintness of New England towns gave way to the exuberance of youth at Wellesley. The girls who lined the street gave us all a mid-race boost with ample offers of inspiring kisses which helped to propel many of us onward!

But after that pleasurable interlude, my thoughts turned to the serious work ahead and I did a system check for any possible concerns before tackling the hills of Newton. All systems were “Go” and I felt confident about the hill work I had done in preparation for what was to come. I knew that Kay and Jessica would see me on the course only once, just after Heartbreak Hill, so I needed to be smart about running the hills and looking strong for them. I went over all of the things I needed to do: shorten my stride, keep my back straight, stay vertical.

As soon as I started the ascent at about mile 16 I knew that it was going to be OK. The hills weren’t any steeper than the ones I’d trained on and, although I slowed my pace, I was able to stay in constant, steady motion. I passed a lot of people, but didn’t feel like I’d emptied the tank when I crested Heartbreak Hill. Again the crowds were great, shouting encouragement on what many of them knew was the toughest part of the course.

I was feeling triumphant when I passed mile 21 and pumped to soon be seeing my family. We saw each other almost simultaneously and, then, it was my turn to experience the excitement of having loved ones cheer me on along the course! What a moment!!!!!! So, now it’s downhill the rest of the way, literally. How hard can that be? Chet had counseled me about this, too: “You need to spend time training downhill, because it will trash your quads.” He was right.

 While it required less effort going downhill, I was feeling things in my legs I’d never felt before. Sure, I’d done hill work, but it was Florida hill work. I don’t know of any 26-mile downhill runs around Lakeland. So I was taking it one mile at a time for the final stretch. Actually, nothing felt like it was going to give out, but this was pushing me to the limit in uncharted territory. I made a conscious effort to maintain my pace and knew that I had enough of a cushion to almost walk the last couple of miles and still finish in less than four hours. I did walk through the last water stations and even took a couple of short walking breaks when I felt a cramp coming on. But, again, the crowds were incredible and especially encouraging as we approached the finish. Just before I turned the corner onto Boylston, I slowed down as I felt a cramp coming on and wanted to work it out so I could finish strong. A voice from the crowd called out, “Come on, 17677, you’re almost there. You can do it!” I pumped my fists and heard him yell “Yeah!” as I resumed my pace and finished amidst the screaming crowd that lined the final stretch. A great finish to a great day and a great experience!

No need for speed? Intellectually, no, there was no need for it. But, in my running soul, my 3:57:13 finishing time satisfied a desire, a desire which now fuels the passion for another race, another goal, another marathon.