The Farther She Runs, the Dimmer Her Past

Her face is drawn and pale, and she’s fighting back the tears. Her teammates tell her, “You ran great, Carrie. You did awesome .” But she cannot be consoled.

First place may be fine for some, but not for Carrie Garritson. On this particular day, victory means nothing to the Sunny Hills sophomore. Or at least very little.

It wouldn’t be outlandish to say that the majority of the 5,000-plus runners competing Saturday at the Woodbridge Invitational would love to have traded places with Garritson--at least for a minute. To lead a race--any race--from the start, to build a lead so impressive that spectators turn to each other in awe, to finish it all with a glorious kick . . . this is the dream of the also-ran.

But it’s just another Saturday for Carrie Garritson. Without any serious challengers, the big clock above the finish line becomes her sole measuring stick. And with a time of 17 minutes 21 seconds, Garritson refuses to believe she measured up.

She had planned on breaking the course record of 17:01. She had hoped for more. She always does.

“Yeah, I’m disappointed,” she says. “Very disappointed. I wanted to run in the 16:40s.”

But you won, she is told.

“I didn’t win by that much.”

But you’ve been injured, someone points out.

Garritson shrugs and stares down at her well-worn racing flats.

“I’m just so sad I didn’t get that record today,” she says quietly.

And she walks away.

No one really knows if Carrie Garritson, 14, will ever become the world-class runner she was brought up to be. No one knows if she’ll burn out or break down or just gradually fade from existence like other young runners who were driven too hard, too soon.

The only certainty seems to be this: Other than her mother, father and 10 brothers and sisters, few people root for Garritson. In fact, many hope to see her fail. This is sad, but not altogether surprising.

Four years ago, Runner’s World magazine chronicled a day in the life of the Garritson family of Fullerton. The story centered on the father, Mike Garritson, who in the world of determined sports parents might make Marv Marinovich look like Ward Cleaver.

Mike Garritson’s aim was to turn his children--at that time, ages 5 to 12--into top-notch runners. His methods, children’s running advocates said, were outrageous: 50 to 60 miles a week, no easy days, killer hill repeats twice weekly, speed workouts, intense road racing every weekend . . .

But what really irked the running community was Mike Garritson’s reasons for saying he would allow Carrie, then 10, to accept prize money at road races, a violation of amateur rules that carries a penalty of being ineligible for high school and college competition. (No one ever proved that Carrie accepted prize money.)

“Our high school programs stink,” he told The Times’ Julie Cart in 1987. “There is just nothing there for Carrie. She’s already beating high school girls.”

Three years later, Carrie Garritson won nearly every cross-country meet she entered as a freshman at Rim of the World High in Lake Arrowhead. Her victories included a State championship last November.

So what became of her father’s shunning of high school training programs? It didn’t change. Carrie Garritson might have been carrying the Rim of the World flag last fall, but it was to her father that she pledged her allegiance. The Rim of the World coach probably never even got to lace her shoes.

And now that the family has returned to Fullerton--Mike Garritson says the high altitude of Lake Arrowhead was great, but the snow and lack of swimming pools made it impossible to train correctly--Carrie takes direction not from Sunny Hills Coach Chris Rael, but from Sunny Hills assistant coach Mike Garritson.

“I wouldn’t let any coach have my kids,” Mike says. “No way. Ninety percent of coaches are sub-par. Our high school and college programs have too much long, easy running. And most of it’s on cement. Look at this course right here (at Woodbridge). Half of it’s on concrete.”

Rael, a national-class race walker and a big believer in team unity, says he has come close to asking Mike Garritson to take a walk several times this season. Rael says the school’s administration will support him if he asks Mike Garritson to leave, but the two have come to terms, and Rael says he can handle it--for now.

“It’s just one of those weird situations,” Rael says. “It’s funky. But that’s what I walked into.”

Rael glances over at the Garritson clan, camped out on the infield of the Woodbridge track. Mom, Linda Garritson, holds nine-week-old son, John, as several other Garritson kids scamper around the star of the family, Carrie, and her father.

“They bring all their kids to practice,” Rael says. “They were bringing their dog, too, until they got into swim workouts. When the dog started jumping in the pool, my principal finally said, ‘Hey, not the dog.’ ”

Rael says many of the other girls’ parents don’t socialize with Mike and Linda Garritson. In fact, Rael says, a mother of a runner asked him if he knew about the court case the Garritsons went through years ago. He didn’t know about it. Few seem to.

In June, 1986, Mike Garritson was acquitted of second-degree murder. Seven years earlier, a neighbor’s 13-month-old child had died while under the Garritsons’ care. Linda Garritson originally told police that her husband was responsible for the child’s death, then changed her story, saying it was an accident. A Superior Court judge acquitted both of all charges.

“I’m innocent from the very beginning,” Mike Garritson said. “It (the case) was one big wing-dinger, a couple years of my life were taken away from me there. I’m basically a family man. It’s a big bad memory.”

Rael says years ago he saw the Garritsons running one of their more brutal workouts. Like most, he dismissed them, thinking they would never last. But now, he says, Mike Garritson has softened. He doesn’t run along the course as Carrie races anymore (Garritson attributes that to bad knees). He doesn’t shout. Plus, Rael says, Mike Garritson seems to have a wide knowledge of running physiology.

The results speak for themselves, Mike Garritson says. His children have won countless age-group titles. Carrie’s running her best ever. They are not burned out. Only the oldest, James, 16, seemed to be slowing over the years. But Mike Garritson points out that James has finally gone through puberty, growing four inches and gaining 20 pounds over the past several months.

As for Carrie, she says she’s enjoying running now more than she did at 10. She says she was sick of injuries and disappointment a year ago, but now, other than a slightly strained quadriceps and occasional problems with her knees, she is feeling pretty good. Her goal is to win the Kinney National Championships in San Diego in December. (In course record time, of course).

After Saturday’s race, a few Sunny Hills runners doused Carrie with their water bottles. As the water ran down her blonde ponytail all the way to her multicolored bunny socks, Carrie laughed like 14-year-olds do. Some think she is snobby, but she seems shy, thoughtful and sensitive, especially when asked about the criticism she and her parents have received over the years.

“I guess some people should always try to find the good in people,” she said quietly.

And then she ran off to join her family.