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Sunday, July 31, 2005
He can juggle his way
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Shortly before 7 on a recent summer morning, two men circled the spongy red track of Portland's Fitzpatrick Stadium. The older fellow wore glasses and ran with arms outstretched by his sides, duck-like. The younger fellow - at 53 not exactly a spring chicken but looking strong and lean nonetheless - ran with elbows bent and hands swaying side to side. As he came around the far turn and made his way closer, you suddenly understood the reason for his curious gait. Rising and falling in front of him, as he ran, were three multicolored balls. He was juggling as he jogged. "Call it joggling," said Randy Judkins with an infectious smile. "I can't claim I made it up. It's been done." Perhaps it has, but not in the way Judkins envisions. A renowned physical comedian who is a founding member of the Maine Hysterical Society, Judkins is trying to raise money for the Boys and Girls Clubs of Greater Portland and Auburn/Lewiston by, well, joggling the TD Banknorth Beach to Beacon 10K Road Race on Saturday in Cape Elizabeth. He hopes to raise $2,000. "I have a strong affinity for working with youth," said Judkins, a former camp counselor and director who often performs for schools and educators. "I wanted to do something special." Judkins has run Beach to Beacon the past four years. For two years before that, he entertained prior to the post-race awards ceremony. He goes way back with race founder Joan Benoit Samuelson, having been a student-teacher in her Cape Elizabeth High math class in the early '70s. First thing he did after entertaining the possibility of joggling was to run it by Samuelson. "She thought it was a really great idea," said Judkins, who hastened to add his fear of being a nuisance to anyone zealous about achieving a certain time. "I'm worried most about running into somebody or them into me," he said. "I don't want to bother anybody else and I know that first mile is very, very crowded. It's harder to pass people when I'm juggling. It's better for them to pass me because my focus is right in front of me. It's hard to look left and right." Even so, race director Dave McGillivray doesn't view Judkins as a hazard. "It's not like he's juggling switchblades or anything," McGillivray said. "I just said use reasonableness. He seems to be an intelligent sort. If you feel you're getting in people's way, you move to the side of the road. . . . I've seen a lot stranger things in races." After being granted clearance to joggle - and seek pledges for the race's chosen beneficiary - Judkins turned to the physical reality of juggling for roughly an hour over a hilly course covering 6.2 miles. Once, for a YMCA fund-raiser in Westerly, R.I., Judkins rode a 15-mile bike race on a unicycle with a 48-inch wheel. Surprisingly, he finished in the middle of the pack. He also remembered, when he was teaching at the Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Clown College two decades ago, an informal competition in which he juggled five balls continuously for nearly three minutes. It was exhausting. "I hope I have enough arm strength, and wind of course, to do it," he said. "Just doing three miles here (at Fitzpatrick) my arms are screaming." After a few minutes of watching Judkins juggle, you understand coordination will not be a problem. He does basic cascades, inside or outside. He also does splits, cross and splits, off the head, body bounces, fake body bounces, under the wrist and one particularly amusing technique in which a juggled ball follows a held ball as if influenced by magnetic force. All of it comes interspersed with silly grimaces and gleeful expressions on his rubbery face. Judkins has yet to decide how to handle water stops. He can juggle three balls with one hand, but one under his arm and two in the air while quenching his thirst would be easier. He also mused about spectators tossing him a rolled-up sock to juggle, or switching to clubs at Mile 5, or, gasp, to flaming torches. "The notion," he said, "is a delightful one." As is his approach. Two days before joggling around Fitzpatrick, Judkins had done speedwork without the balls. He finds the track a safer place to practice than on the streets near his home. "I really got some strange stares," he said, "and I almost got run over twice." He expects more strange stares on Saturday when the gun fires and the balls go aloft. And if you happen to be among those who finish behind a 53-year-old clown who juggled his way from Crescent Beach to the Portland Head Light, remember: It's for a good cause. - Staff Writer Glenn Jordan can be contacted at 791-6425 or at:
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