Saturday, as is the case with most every Saturday during the school sports year, was a great day for this guy. 

I was bathed in glorious sunshine under the kind of blue skies you find only in Big Sky country. It was a Goldie Locks kind of day, not too warm, not too cold ... just right. Geese and an eagle or two flew by, no doubt wondering what was taking place beneath them. 

All around me, folks were milling about and strolling in the park-like setting. A few were setting mind-blowing records of achievement. 

And there was not a video game in sight. This was NOT your grandma’s basement. 

So where was this idyllic scene? The great outdoors, of this great state, on an absolutely great September afternoon at a great golf course, River’s Bend, just outside of Thompson Falls. 

No, I was not whacking a little white ball around the gently rolling terrain, hoping to put said ball in a hole in the ground marked by a flag on a stick. 

I’m not a golfer, although I have played a game similar to golf. I call it hit the ball then go look for it in the woods. 

No, on this spectacular Saturday I was “working.” My workstation was a park bench adjacent to the second hole. And my work was pointing a camera in the direction of some hearty young men and women who were running by me on their way over the river (well, along the river) and through the woods. 

They were not heading for grandmother’s house or basement.  They were taking part in the annual Thompson Falls Invitational cross-country event for high school athletes from throughout this splendid part of the USA. 

The object was to run a path plotted within the golf course as fast as possible on the way to a finish line more than three miles away. 

And at least two of those runners, both from Plains, set new course records for this outdoor event. One was a sophomore from Plains High, the other an eighth grader from Plains Junior High. You can read all about it in the story in these sports pages. 

But what impressed me was not how far they ran, but how fast they ran that distance. The guy who herds the runners through the course on an ATV had the throttle beyond idle. 

Now, there were a few “runners” out of the hundreds who took part, who essentially were cross country “walkers.”  Out for a nice walk on a late summer afternoon in a uniform bearing the name of their school. 

And despite the thought of suggesting they try bowling or chess, they were “out” moving around, not swallowed up by sofa cushions in a darkened basement room while electronic creatures of all kinds battle on a big screen TV. 

It was an impressive sight to see several hundred young runners, clad in their school colors, run over the slopes of the golf course and through the towering pines that make it a beautiful place to hit the links. 

I never liked running, at least not more than 40 yards at a time. That, I tell folks, is why they put me on the offensive line, not the fact I weighed 101 pounds in first grade. 

These kids, for the most part, are in such good physical condition it might take five of them combined to weigh 101 pounds. 

I gotta admit, I always wondered what it would be like to be able to run, not walk, a long distance and not be looking around for the shock paddles. 

When Roger Bannister (yes, I’m that old) became the first human in an official race to break the four-minute mark in the mile run, I thought it was a mistake in the sports reporter’s story. 

It made me winded just to think about it. 

Run on, boys and girls. Go for the gold. Move those arms and legs and get out in the sunshine. 

Who knows, you may find you like it more than zapping electronic monsters in granny’s cellar.