The Chilmark Road Race is about much more than speed. How many contests pit septuagenarians against seven-year-olds? How often do you see Crocs on the starting line? Where else do people doing a 20-minute mile get such an enthusiastic round of cheers?

When Hugh Weisman organized the first annual Chilmark Road Race some 32 years ago, he wasn’t exactly sure how many people would show up. Mr. Weisman, an avid runner who at the time was offering a clinic at the Chilmark Community Center, estimated beforehand that 200 runners might show up.

Maybe more, maybe less.

But he never imagined that the little race, stretching over five kilometers along Middle Road, would grow to become the phenomenon it is now.

Susan Wilson is a runner. She runs everywhere she goes — Egypt, France, Viet Nam, England, her home in Princeton, N.J. and Chilmark. They’re all good places to accelerate her body past a walk. In fact, at 78, she was the fastest female in her age category in Chilmark Road Race last Saturday. She has won that honor 11 times, in her 60s and her 70s.

With the sounding of the horn, some 1,600 runners in the 31st Chilmark Road Race took off. The herd shot toward the press truck like raptors in a Steven Spielberg film and the red pickup sped up to avoid being overtaken. John Ciccarelli was at the front, his face just feet from the photographers’ lenses. Behind him two boys in pink shirts attempted a 100-meter dash in the beginning of the 3.1-mile race and soon dropped off to the side.

The Chilmark Road Race is a chimerical beast, part family-oriented
charity jog, part cutthroat competition. Perhaps the contradictory
spirit of the now-legendary institution was best summed up by Willy
Anderson, age 10. When asked about his plans for the race, the
bespectacled youth declared, "I really want to beat my mom.
We'll start out together, but at the end I'll try to beat
her."

Looks of calm, looks of determination, looks of pain and of pride:
the expressions were as varied as the runners themselves, crossing the
finish line of the annual Chilmark Road Race on Saturday morning -
or, for the walkers, afternoon.

Just over 1,500 people ran the race, ranging from six to 79 years
old. The youngest and oldest runners finished just 14 seconds apart.
Some runners were turned away toward the end of registration, since
1,500 is the town's set capacity for the race.

Boarding the shuttle from Beetlebung Corner to the starting line of the 28th annual Chilmark Road Race on Saturday, one could smell the excitement.

The excitement, as it happened, smelled like 50 sweaty runners in a school bus. Race officials blared Highway to Hell by AC/DC in the background, a subtle nod to the day's combination of 90 degree heat and 80 per cent humidity.

The T-shirts spilling out of the brown paper bag onto A.V. and Dora
Morrow's floor may be nicely creased and look brand new, but
don't be fooled: 27 years and 83.7 miles worth of Middle Road in
Chilmark are locked inside those cotton fibers.

Said Jack Davies: "It doesn't rain on the Chilmark Road Race."

And for the first 25 years, it didn't. Runners last year, in fact, were reported as traversing the scenic stretch of Middle Road "against a canvas of shadows and golden light." That was hardly the case this year, as runners arrived at Beetlebung Corner decked out in homemade raingear, most of it fashioned from kitchen trash bags. But Saturday morning's thick gray clouds and spotty rain didn't faze the participants; it only put a damper on the takeoff and fostered some ironic humor.

The noisy, motley group of runners suddenly waxed silent and awaited
the bullhorn. When it blasted, the soles of more than a thousand running shoes
began pummelling Middle Road against a canvas of shadows and golden
light.

On Saturday morning the 25th annual Chilmark Road Race began just as
its predecessors - but with an even richer sense of history, and
featuring a wonderful new gadget.