For nearly five decades, Dick has spent part of every summer doing the same thing: lacing up his running shoes and heading to the starting line of the Kalamazoo Klassic. What began in 1979 as a single race has become a lifelong tradition woven through family memories, personal milestones, and the changing streets of Kalamazoo itself.
But the streak almost ended before it even started.
The night before his very first Klassic, Dick had been at his brother Lou’s wedding in Holland, Michigan. After the reception, he drove back late and crashed at his friend Mark’s house on Winchell Avenue, close to the racecourse. Exhausted after only a few hours of sleep, Dick considered skipping the race altogether. But Mark nudged him out of bed and convinced him to go.
That decision turned into 47 years and counting.
Part of what kept drawing Dick back was the familiarity of the course. Streets like Bronson Boulevard were more than race routes. They were places where he had trained years earlier while running cross country and track for Kalamazoo Christian High School. Each summer felt like revisiting a piece of home.
Over time, the Klassic became more than just another race on the calendar. In the late 1980s, while living in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, Dick still made the trip back to Kalamazoo each summer to compete in the 10K. Somewhere during those years, the event stopped being optional. It became a commitment.
Part of his motivation is simply keeping the streak alive one more year.
Some of Dick’s most meaningful memories involve family. In 1999, the Klassic became unforgettable for both joyful and frightening reasons. His brother Lou won the 10K that year. Lou’s daughter Anne completed the 5K for the first time. But just moments after starting the 5K himself, Dick’s father George suffered a heart attack. Runners heard ambulance sirens echo through the course before learning George had been rushed to Bronson Hospital. Thankfully, he survived.
Other memories carry a lighter spirit. Dick still remembers the 1997 race after a violent storm swept through Kalamazoo the night before. Fallen trees blocked parts of Bronson Boulevard, threatening to cancel the event. But before sunrise, volunteers arrived with chainsaws and cleared the roads so the race could continue. Dick remembers the smell of freshly cut wood in the morning air as he pushed toward a sub-18-minute 5K finish just behind his friend Rick Chambers.
Through the years, the Klassic has also become a family tradition spanning generations. Dick watched proudly as his daughters, Deborah and Renee, ran their first Kids Klassic races before eventually joining the 5K themselves. Lou ran alongside Deborah during her first 5K and later joined Dick again for the “virtual” Klassic runs during COVID. Friends and family continued to share miles with him over the decades. Rick Chambers ran beside him in 2014. His son Caleb joined him last year. This year, his wife Susan plans to run with him too.
The race itself has changed over the years. In the early days, runners finished at the top of Peeler Street instead of near Maple Street Magnet School for the Arts, making an already difficult course even tougher. Back then, the Klassic offered only a 10K, and because road racing was less common, elite runners from around Michigan regularly showed up. Dick still points out that Mark’s 35:28 finish in 1979 placed only 28th, despite being fast enough to potentially win some races today.
But for all the changes, one thing has stayed remarkably consistent: unpredictability.
Some years are brutally hot and humid. Others are cool and comfortable. Then there was the year officials used a cannon to start the race. Dick realized too late how loud it would be. As he rushed to plug his ears, the cannon exploded and startled him so badly that he accidentally punched himself in the face before taking his first stride.
“The first few steps of the race that year were not steady,” he laughs.
If there is one word Dick uses to describe the Klassic, it is simple: “Hill.”
Specifically, Maple Street hill.
And if he could go back and give advice to his younger self standing at the starting line in 1979? “Don’t run up Maple Street hill on your toes.” He learned that lesson the hard way after injuring his calf on the climb during his very first Klassic. What should have been a 38-minute finish turned into a painful final stretch and a 39:46 time instead.
Still, he came back the next year.
And the year after that.
Forty-seven years later, Dick is still returning to the same streets, the same hills, and the same community that has cheered runners on for generations. For him, the Klassic is not just a race. It is a timeline of family, friendships, perseverance, and Kalamazoo itself.
