This line, this Platte River, Ni-Bthaska-Ke the Omaha Tribe name for the meandering tributary.
To the west, an air of superiority. That’s the climate. Ask most anyone from the Lincoln running community about Omaha’s efforts and you’ll get a chuckle and a chortle. A belief held deeply and for decades, attitudes shifting along with the Capitol building.
Those lines, they are drawn deeper than the river. I’m going into the vault when I tell you of my first couple months in Nebraska. Going to an ORC Board meeting and describing a different vision. Not at all well received, I pronounced my intentions to proceed alone. Team Nebraska was the result. Foisting competitive athletics onto this bastion of social, comfortable, RRCA. Advocating prize money over participation medals. I was told Lincoln was the answer to my needs.
Yes it was.
But along the way, a highway that still runs west, mostly in the memories of Stenger and Wilson and Westhuizen and Adams and Lindgren and Kunasek, was laid. A link now buried under shifting time. Damage along the river, like all things, will eventually pass, I’m an optimist, and the best will join together once again.
Congratulations to Ann Ringlein on her induction to the Nebraska Wesleyan HOF. She has few peers in Nebraska.
Back to the Omaha Marathon, Saugerties style. Shooting on the course by a semi deranged man delaying the start into the heat of the morning. A $1500 generator was stashed at the half marathon point at 1 in the morning, time penny wise and pound foolish as it turns out. Stolen. Running through the mean streets of Omaha’s worst side.
It’s been decades since Omaha has had a Real Marathon because they don’t support both competitive and casual runners. Lincoln does. Hard to Argue.
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