They climbed in and they climbed out and they also picked the locks. : The Great Red Track Field War

I don’t run. That is to say, I do not wear shorts and a headband and jog around the streets of the San Fernando Valley in order to prolong my life. Running makes me sweat, and no one who writes for a living ought to have to sweat, although a little private perspiration under certain conditions might be acceptable.

Nor do I heel-and-toe walk at a breakneck pace, head bent into the smog, plowing through crowds of pedestrians and trampling little children for the benefit of outliving the expiration date on my life insurance.

Mostly, I meander. Meandering, as far as I know, contributes to nothing very important, either physical or mental, which is just fine with me. My aim in life is not to set a new record for longevity but simply to last long enough to be able to suck a Lifesaver until it dissolves completely in my mouth without having once touched my teeth.

This does not mean, however, that I view with scorn those who believe that running or fast walking will make them healthier, prettier, smarter and possibly better able to cope with improved employment opportunities.

However, even if I were opposed to their activities it would not stop them. Runners and fast-walkers are determined people. They would batter down doors, scale fences, pick locks and throw themselves over barbed-wire barriers in order to get healthy.

Traffic lights won’t stop them, biting dogs won’t stop them and sure as hell Cal State Northridge is not going to stop them. A case in point: the Great Red CSUN Track Field Debate.

For about 20 years, members of the community used the university’s field to jog and walk in relative comfort and safety. They felt that, since it was state property, it was their right to do so, a not unreasonable assumption given the nature of a free society.

But then two years ago the track was closed to outsiders, though students were allowed its use. The community was told the field was in need of repairs due to public abuse and was not safe in its present condition.

Presumably, students were permitted to continue bopping around the rutted oval because undergraduates are expendable and you don’t mind losing one occasionally.

It seemed a simple matter to Cal State athletic administrators. There is an eight-foot-high Cyclone fence around the field, which, they felt, would effectively bar the public. In addition, an entry turnstile was padlocked and two signs erected that warned everyone to stay out.

Well, sir. One of the more determined runners wrote in pencil on the sign that the administrators were full of what I am only allowed to call baloney and climbed over the fence. Others did the same. The exit turnstile was still working at the time so, once they got in, they could walk out.

The university was not about to tolerate this kind of arrogance. They also chained and padlocked the exit turnstile, feeling that the runners and walkers would surely not want to climb both in and out over the fence. Wrong again.

They climbed in and they climbed out and they also picked the locks. New locks were installed and a strand of wire was placed atop the eight-foot fence. The wire was cut. Three strands of barbed wire replaced the single strand, giving the barrier the appearance of a maximum-security prison.

The runners and walkers, apparently employing tactics refined by certain elite combat units, crushed the barbed wire and just kept on climbing over.

Meanwhile, CSUN spent $93,000 to resurface the track with a bright red material. The work was completed last month, but the chains, padlocks and barbed wire remained in place.

Using red to pave the track was the psychological equivalent of selling beer in the desert. The route over the fence became a freeway.

The problem, says the university, is that outsiders “abuse” the track. Not only that, but they get in the way when the team is working out. Milers cannot get past old men in walking shorts heeling and toeing determinedly down the fast lanes.

A spokesman for the athletic department promises they are going to try to reach some kind of compromise, while pointing out that Santa Monica City College employed armed guards to keep the public away and at one time arrested the track coach when they failed to recognize him.

I hope CSUN can solve the problem. Some runners I know who are madder than hell at the barriers hint darkly at the existence of a militant health organization with a guerrilla strike force trained in hostile penetration of guarded facilities.

A middle-aged fast-walker I met at the padlocked entry turnstile warned that nothing would keep them from the pretty red track field. Just before she left, she said, “I shall return.”

The next time I see her, she could well be wearing a camouflaged sweat suit with her face darkened for night walking in forbidden places.

I don’t know how this will end, but I’ll keep running back and forth between here and Cal State Northridge until the matter is settled. Well, actually, meandering back and forth.

Possibly even strolling, if the weather’s right.