by Coach Adolfo Salgueiro | Jan 18, 2022 | Article, Personal, Reflection
Orange Bowl 1983
By Coach Adolfo Salgueiro
Iâve written about my first marathon in bits and pieces throughout this blog, but Iâve never written anywhere about my entire recollection of that 1983 Orange Bowl Marathon. This upcoming January 22nd will be the 39th anniversary of my race. So, before my memories keep fading away, I better put all I can recall into paper (or digital format).
I was a 17-year-old high school senior living in Caracas, Venezuela. I always kept active by running, practicing karate, baseball, soccer, tennis, hiking, swimming, biking and whatever came along. Running a marathon was a goal somewhere on the backburner, but, thanks to my dad, I got the chance to fulfill it earlier than expected.
I believe we arrived in Miami the day before the Saturday race. We stayed in a hotel in downtown and went to a spacious hotel ballroom nearby, to pick up our bibs. I remember being blown away by the technology of the day, when my bib was printed before my eyes, instead of being ready ahead of time. I donât recall an expo, but that doesnât mean it wasnât there. I read, maybe in that dayâs Miami Herald, that none other than the legendary Bill Rodgers was the favorite to win.
This is the only picture I have from the race, but it is one of the best running pictures ever taken of me. Check out the detail of the untied shoe with no socks, to which I make reference, later in the post.
I also recall my dad buying me a Casio stopwatch, so I could keep track of my marathon time. I had that Casio for years. I donât remember how I lost it or when it broke, but Iâve seen it in pictures from the early 90s.
On race morning we met with the Venezuelan runners, most of them where my dadâs buddies, at the hotel lobby. The one thing I vividly remember was asking for a coffee at the hotel bar and getting a gigantic cup of black, diluted, disgusting American coffee. At home, a small cup of good coffee with a generous amount of milk would start off the day.
One of the runners had rented a sports car and somehow, more people than was safe crammed inside for a short drive to the majestic (at lease in my eyes) Orange Bowl Stadium. This is where the Miami Dolphins, who were playing the Super Bowl next week, held their home games.
Before time chips, you had to present yourself and your bib to the organizers, so they knew you were at the starting line. Somehow, we could not find the registration table. We were looking for it like crazy until we realized this was going to be based on the honor system.
I recall nothing about the starting gun, crossing the starting line or conversations along the way. I do remember, though, my dad constantly reining me in because I was going too fast. He also reminded me to take water every so often, as the humidity was exceedingly high.
My dad has one indelible memory of the race. After a rainy patch along the way, we found ourselves running next to a woman with a drenched, white outfit that left nothing to the imagination. At  17 and with raging hormones, I couldnât but get distracted by the magnificent side show. My dad had to bring me back to the race at hand. There is no marathon talk in my household where this story doesnât come up.
The course had two in-and-out segments (Coral Way and Coconut Grove). Both times, as we were going in, the pack led by Bill Rodgers, was coming out. For a 17-year-old kid from Caracas, seeing the legendary Bill Rodgers, running in the same race within a few meters from each other, was the highlight of the event. It was the equivalent of participating in the same Monaco Gran Prix with Niki Lauda or playing in Veterans Stadium, side-by-side with Mike Schmidt. It was that improbable.
Sometime during the Covid lockdown of 2020, my friend Starr Davis invited me to participate on a Zoom call with Rodgers. At the end, I had the chance to asked him what he remembered form the 1983 Orange Bowl. Surprisingly, he recalled a lot. Starr recorded the interaction with her cellphone. I invite you to check the video, which I have included right here.
Most of my memories of the 1983 Orange Bowl Marathon are from the last 7.2 kilometers (4.5 miles). I recall them vividly because I suffered miserably. My dad and I agreed to run together for 35 kilometers (21.8 miles), and from there, each one would run his own race. By kilometer 35.1 he had already left me in the dust. I slowed down and started walking. I was drenched, tired, hungry, and questioning what the fuck was I doing there, instead of being at home in Caracas, maybe getting ready to play baseball with my buddies.
At one point, it had to be closer to the end, I took my shoes off and started walking on my socks. The shoes were heavy, and I considered just tossing them to the side, but then I thought of my dad getting upset, as they were the shoes he let me borrow, so I decided to keep them. Wise choice.
A friend of my dad, the late Jose Ortega, saw me close to the end and ran a bit with me with words of encouragement. I promised him I would finish so I discarded my socks, put on the shoes, which I did not tie, and started running. The next memory I have is of my dad and some Venezuelan runners at the entrance of the stadium, cheering me on. As I hit the grass, I started sprinting like crazy. To this day I canât figure out how my shoes didnât fly off my feet. Check them in the accompanying picture. Not only untied, but open at the top.
37 years later, I got my hands on a medal from the race
I lifted my arms as I crossed the finish line and, one way or another, I found my dad and collapsed. My first thought was: âWhen are we doing the next one?â
I knew my time was around 4:11 but I did not know for sure. I wouldnât find until months later when I got my finisherâs certificate in the mail, that my official time was 4:11:11. I also got a proof of one picture in case I wanted to order it. It is the only image I have from the entire experience. Thank God is one of the best pictures ever taken of me running.
In those days, medals were not ubiquitous or for everybody, and I did not get one. In September 2020 I found one on eBay and jumped on it. If you care to read about the 37-year medal saga you can check the blog post I wrote about it by clicking here.
Sorry if this blogpost ran longer than usual, but I am trying to recall as much as I can. Yes, I could have waited until next year, the 40th anniversary, but by then, I may forget something else. And I can always repost.
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by Coach Adolfo Salgueiro | Sep 22, 2020 | Opinion, Reflection
By Coach Adolfo Salgueiro
 In todayâs blogpost I am going to go personal, as something super cool just happened to me a couple of weeks ago. So cool, that I am still trying to figure out if it actually happened. Well, I wouldnât go that far, but amazing, nevertheless.
As many of my friends know, as well as readers who have taken the time to read My Running Story page in my website, I started running when I was very young. At 17 I ran my very first marathon. That race was an amazing experience that, almost four decades later, I still cherish and one of the coolest ones from my teenage years. There are not many high schoolers with a full marathon under their soles.
At 17, a senior in high school, and just a few yards away of finishing my very first full marathon
On January 22nd, 1983, my dad and I lined up at the foot of the old Orange Bowl Stadium for a 7AM start of the Orange Bowl Marathon. I remember a humid and rainy day in Miami and Bill Rodgers as the favorite to win. Our plan was to run the first 35K (about 22 miles) together and then every man was on his own. We cross paths with Rodgers twice during in-an-outs at Coral Way and Coconut Grove. Then, at mile 22 my dad left me in the dust and finished in 3:55. After walking a few painful and humbling miles, I triumphally crossed the finish line in 4:11:11. What a thrill to fall on my dadâs arms a few feet after and ask him: âWhen do we do this againâ. But I digress.
The point of this story is that back in 1983, getting a medal worth its place in an art gallery was not the norm. New York was famous for handing medals to every finisher. My dad had one from the previous year. The Orange Bowl offered medals to the first 500 or 1000 finishers, I donât recall precisely. What I do recall is that I did not get one. I have finished eight more marathons and despite some beautiful medals to represent my achievements, there was always a hole in my collection. A hole that may never be filled.
Until now.
On September 2, I was at my computer and for some reason the thought of the 1983 Orange Bowl Marathon and my lack of medal, crossed my mind. So I did a Google search and, to my most absolute astonishing surprise, there was one for sale in eBay for $15.99 plus $2 for shipping. I could not believe my eyes. The elusive medal was somewhere out there. I have never even seen one. But from my race shirt I recognized the logo and that was it. Just a few clicks away. Calling my name. Winking at me. I could not let the opportunity go. I purchased it right away.
The times I thought about the missing piece in my collection, I entertained finding a nice shell in the beach, hang it in a string, and call it my Orange Bowl 1983 memento. But it never went beyond a passing thought. The absence in the collection persisted.
On September 9, 2020, 37 years, 7 months, and 18 days after I crossed the line of my first marathon, the package arrived. I finally had the medal in my hands. A plain, cheap, worn out piece of metal. Maybe an inch and a half in diameter and not even attached to a string or lace. Not the prettiest puppy in the litter, but MY medal. The representation of MY achievement on that day, from when I was still a senior in high school.
This medal doesnât fill a hole in my soul, just a hole in my medal collection. With nine marathon finishes I have done better times, travel to other states and countries, ran in some of the biggest races in the world, and accumulated countless stories. How I got my medal 13,746 days later, has just been added to the memories.
by Coach Adolfo Salgueiro | Mar 11, 2020 | Personal
By Adolfo Salgueiro
 Today, March 11th, 2020, my dad, Adolfo Salgueiro, Sr. is turning 82 years old. He is still running 3-4 times a week and competing in local 5Ks. The experienced runner and running coach that I am today would have not been possible without his inspiration and encouragement to get started over 40 years ago.
Finishing together a 5K in Plantation, FL in February 2020
My running story has been tied to my dad since its very beginning, probably in the mid-to-late 1970s, when we lived in Caracas, Venezuela. He would run starting from our home and my mom would go pick him up after a predetermined time while making sure she noted the odometer reading. I remember many times being in charge of either spotting my dad or being in charge of the odometer read. I could have been as young as 10 or 11.
Soon after, my mom was not only picking up just my dad but also myself and my twin brother, Jose. Maybe we ran one kilometer, maybe two, who is to know? Tough to recall 40+ years later. But somehow, we became a running family. Living in Venezuela in the mid-70s, I knew no other road runner than my dad. This was at the time when nobody ran. When people would stop to ask if we were escaping from the police or would throw their cars at us just for the fun of seeing our reactions.
Even though my dream was becoming the first baseman for the Philadelphia Phillies, I kept running on and off with my dad. I was a junior in high school when he encouraged me to run my first 10K race, an unfathomable distance for a 16-year old. I ran a few more 5 and 10Ks here and there, but baseball was my first love and I would play it at often as possible.
One day in mid-1982, my dad came back from his weekend run and stated: âI am going to run the New York City Marathonâ. We all thought he finally lost his marbles, paid not much attention and let him enjoy his delusion. But, long story short, on October 24, he took the start at the Verrazano Narrows and finished in 4:36:37. He was the first person I ever knew to run a marathon. I couldnât believe it. My dad ran a marathon!
Half Marathon in Barquisimeto, Venezuela, in 1983
A month or so later, the Caracas Marathon has held in my hometown and my dad went to the 30k mark to meet a friend and run him in (it wasnât frowned upon then). I went, too and was amazed by what I saw. I jumped in and ran the last 12k, where I saw first-hand the emotions, the suffering, the effort, the triumph. So, I told my dad: âOne day, I will run one of theseâ. Seven weeks later we both were in front of the Orange Bowl Stadium in Miami lining up for the start of the 1983 Orange Bowl Marathon. Even Bill Rodgers was there. I was still a Senior in high school. I was 17.
My dad held me back when I wanted to surge, he reminded me to drink water, brought me back to focus when I got distracted by a hot girl running in front of us, etc. As planned, at 35K, each man was on his own and he left me in the dust. I struggled the last 7K, cursing my bad judgement for wanting to do this stupid thing. I limped into the stadium only to see my Dad with a big smile, cheering me up and letting me know he went sub-4. I went around the track, crossed the finish line and collapsed in my dadâs arms. He was so proud of me. The only words I could muster were: âwhen are we doing the next one?â.
The answer came rather soon. 10 months later we were both lining up in front of the Verrazano Narrows at the 1983 NYC Marathon. On December 1984 we both set up PRs in the Caracas Marathon. He ran 3:47 and I ran 3:32. In December 1985, once again we ran the Caracas Marathon. Then life and injuries got on my way, but he kept going for another 30+ years. He ran a handful more marathons and even set a better PR of 3:43. When for his 30th birthday, my twin brother wanted to run New York, my dad trained with him and at 57, ran his last marathon. My dad beat my brother by 3 minutes or so.
Three Generations of Adolfo Salgueiro finishing the 2016 Miami Turkey Trot
After a 27-year hiatus, I came back to road racing in 2012 at the Miami Half Marathon. As I picked up my race kit, I was so happy, in disbelief of what I was about to do after such a long time. My mind went back to running with my dad all those years ago, enough that I even sent him my race shirt with a message thanking him for initiating me in this wonderful sport.
Through the years, there have been many more running experiences. In December 2012, we had the opportunity of running my dad, myself and my son, all three of us named Adolfo Salgueiro, in a 10K race in Miami Beach, where we finished all three together. In November 2016, we did that again. The day he turned eighty, 18 family members accompanied him completing a 5K race, in which the race director was gracious enough to hold number 80 for him. Last February I ran a 5K race with him, at his pace, and we crossed the finish line holding hands.
I donât know how many more chances I will have to share races with my dad, but what I do know is that I plan to keep running as long as the good Lord keeps me around. And as this happens, it will be thanks to my dad initiating me in the sport, over 40 years ago, even when my favorite sport was baseball.
