It's an interesting thing when people from other schools know your name. It validates what you're doing when you're getting into it. As a sophomore in high school, I ran a 4:38 first meet of the season and all of the sudden my name was on the district-wide performance list, and I was put into conversations with people whose names I knew.
I ended my sophomore year as a 4:28 miler, but as 'only' the 3rd fastest miler of my class in my district.
Throughout the rest of my high school experience, I was the Chris Brown, the Nate Brannen, the Kevin Sullivan, the Chris Lukezic of the 800/Mile.
In short - I was the guy who always made the final, but was never in the conversation to win.
Oh sure, I'd pick up an upset 3rd or even 2nd here and there, and I'd always be in the conversation as someone's Dark Horse or potential spoiler, but not as the popular pick to win.
I guess this has fueled me as much as anything. As I've worked harder, I've caught up to and surpassed some of these rivals of old, which turns around to make me push harder.
MY DIIIRunner's Experience is a personal story of a 5th ranked guy that shouldn't have gotten 3rd, the personal struggle of the almost-but-not-quite-talented-enough guy doing everything he can to reach that next level, to run those times he shouldn't have been able to run, and more than anything to beat those guys who simply just don't lose.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
400m Escapes
Before I ended my internship in DC and headed home for a month, I jogged to the track to break up the monotony of the miles. 12x400, without looking at the watch until the lap was done. I just wanted something resembling speed.
On semi-tired legs I head to the track at 10:30 at night. Why so late? It's 10:30, and it's 95 degrees outside. Each night I choose between sleep and an awkwardly comfortable run. I have yet to choose the former.
3 sets of 4, 2min between reps, lap jog between sets plus a minute stretching.
66 65 64 65
My legs seem to creak in protest. I haven't done reps these short in months. I jog around the inside of the track, wiping pounds of sweat away in the torrential humidity.
65 66 66 66
Hip flexors are feeling the repeats.
67
God dammit these are fucking 400s not 800s. Run them like you're not alone
63 64 62
That's better
On semi-tired legs I head to the track at 10:30 at night. Why so late? It's 10:30, and it's 95 degrees outside. Each night I choose between sleep and an awkwardly comfortable run. I have yet to choose the former.
3 sets of 4, 2min between reps, lap jog between sets plus a minute stretching.
66 65 64 65
My legs seem to creak in protest. I haven't done reps these short in months. I jog around the inside of the track, wiping pounds of sweat away in the torrential humidity.
65 66 66 66
Hip flexors are feeling the repeats.
67
God dammit these are fucking 400s not 800s. Run them like you're not alone
63 64 62
That's better
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
What am I doing, and Why am I not better at it?
I caught all the lights tonight. I stopped once, and that was voluntary to go to the bathroom for 30 seconds on a tree.
I ran late, starting my run at 9:15pm. DC is humid, and my runs have been getting later and later as the summer drags onward. Each mile peeled away like magnetic strips, revealing the run as a whole. Each mile was between 6:22 and 6:27, a 5 second gap for 7.75 miles.
My pace hardly faltered at any time. I glided, and got intentionally lost in my own head.
I didn't want to run today. I didn't get much sleep last night, and I had to work later than most people at my office. I was buzzing on coffee all day and when I got home and made and ate dinner, it was 8:30. I wanted to crash, to sleep, to pass out for 12 hours and wake up ready to go tomorrow.
And I almost did. I laid in my bed, and I knew I couldn't fall asleep unless I got my run in. It wasn't guilt, it wasn't anxiousness, it was the feeling of an uncompleted task that simply had to be taken care of before bed. Like washing dishes, or making lunch for the next day.
Or homework. It was homework. It simply had to be done.
If I had to describe to you why I've come to feel like that, I couldn't tell you. There's something I'm running for, running towards, and I think that deep down I know what it is, but it's too frightening to say out loud. Too surreal to think about in my current state of fitness.
I listen to soft music that acts as white noise, blocking out the inner city sounds. It doesn't pump me up & it doesn't calm me down, it simply changes what I am experiencing. Recently, it's been folk music. Before that, it was classic orchestral pieces. Before that, Indie rock. It changes as I change.
I think I do it to mute the sound of my own breathing.
I don't like to know how tired I am, and the sound of my labored breath bothers me in the fleeting moments between songs. I'm not supposed to be tired at a silly pace like this. I'm fine.
I keep my pace as I climb, climb, climb back home. As I slow to a stop at the end of my run, I check my heart rate. It's just north of 170 bpm.
I probably checked it wrong, I'm fitter than that. Ya. I'm fitter than that.
If I were to measure myself against what I want to do, what I know I'm running for, what makes running another task rather than a chore or a burden or even something I view as necessary exercise - would stop me. It's too intangible, too hard, too few success stories and millions of failures of people just like me.
I don't have a closing motivational thought. These thoughts just bounce around my head to the sound of White Blank Page as I skim through the humid night, physically knowing that I can when all evidence says I cannot.
I ran late, starting my run at 9:15pm. DC is humid, and my runs have been getting later and later as the summer drags onward. Each mile peeled away like magnetic strips, revealing the run as a whole. Each mile was between 6:22 and 6:27, a 5 second gap for 7.75 miles.
My pace hardly faltered at any time. I glided, and got intentionally lost in my own head.
I didn't want to run today. I didn't get much sleep last night, and I had to work later than most people at my office. I was buzzing on coffee all day and when I got home and made and ate dinner, it was 8:30. I wanted to crash, to sleep, to pass out for 12 hours and wake up ready to go tomorrow.
And I almost did. I laid in my bed, and I knew I couldn't fall asleep unless I got my run in. It wasn't guilt, it wasn't anxiousness, it was the feeling of an uncompleted task that simply had to be taken care of before bed. Like washing dishes, or making lunch for the next day.
Or homework. It was homework. It simply had to be done.
If I had to describe to you why I've come to feel like that, I couldn't tell you. There's something I'm running for, running towards, and I think that deep down I know what it is, but it's too frightening to say out loud. Too surreal to think about in my current state of fitness.
I listen to soft music that acts as white noise, blocking out the inner city sounds. It doesn't pump me up & it doesn't calm me down, it simply changes what I am experiencing. Recently, it's been folk music. Before that, it was classic orchestral pieces. Before that, Indie rock. It changes as I change.
I think I do it to mute the sound of my own breathing.
I don't like to know how tired I am, and the sound of my labored breath bothers me in the fleeting moments between songs. I'm not supposed to be tired at a silly pace like this. I'm fine.
I keep my pace as I climb, climb, climb back home. As I slow to a stop at the end of my run, I check my heart rate. It's just north of 170 bpm.
I probably checked it wrong, I'm fitter than that. Ya. I'm fitter than that.
If I were to measure myself against what I want to do, what I know I'm running for, what makes running another task rather than a chore or a burden or even something I view as necessary exercise - would stop me. It's too intangible, too hard, too few success stories and millions of failures of people just like me.
I don't have a closing motivational thought. These thoughts just bounce around my head to the sound of White Blank Page as I skim through the humid night, physically knowing that I can when all evidence says I cannot.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Glances and Glazed Eyes
I've been noticing something while I'm in Washington DC over the summer, and it was probably true before this I just never realized what was going on.
So, back story/explanation:
I live about a mile north of the Capital building, and my typical base run has been to make a B-line straight for it, loop around the back and run along the hard-packed dirt path around the Federal Triangle/National Mall. Depending on how I come back, it's between 7 and 8.5 miles, and I usually do it around 9pm. Great.
Now, I don't do this specific run over and over and over because I want to see all of the sights. Don't get me wrong - the Smithsonian buildings and Federal monuments are beautiful at night, and with the fireflies along my path it really is gorgeous at times - it's just that the loop has an extended period of non-pavement, it's relatively flat, and there aren't many times I have to stop for cars/traffic lights like I would have to do literally anywhere else I ran in this city.
But there's always one constant thing I can count on when I do that loop - throngs of tourists. Plethoras of cameras, accents, languages, and bewildered expressions. I'm not being degrading, I've only lived here a month so I identify more with the tourists than with the DC residents, it's just something I've noticed.
And with the masses of people on the Mall at all hours of the day and night, the number of people who look at me changes drastically when I run vs when I do not (in the same areas).
Now, I don't mean take a nonchalant glance my way then continue on. This is deer in the headlights, OMG-that-guy-has-a-gun, Do-I-know-him blank empty stares. Shit that could make Sauron twitch. LOTR reference? Check.
I thought this was simply because I was running, and most of the time with very little clothing, moving at a pace around 10mph as I don't even glance at the monuments. Odd right? BUT YOU'RE WRONG.
See, I bike everywhere. DC is small, and the metro is expensive. When I'm biking furiously around the Mall, I get the EXACT same stares.
BUT (and this is the super interesting part), when I'm biking very slow, i.e. walking pace, NOBODY gives me more than a glance.
Thus, in summation my hypothesis is:
Velocity of movement is directly correlated with how long people stare at you, or at least how long tourists do.
I'll be testing this in the weeks and months to come. Stay tuned. This is important stuff.
For science! *bow
So, back story/explanation:
I live about a mile north of the Capital building, and my typical base run has been to make a B-line straight for it, loop around the back and run along the hard-packed dirt path around the Federal Triangle/National Mall. Depending on how I come back, it's between 7 and 8.5 miles, and I usually do it around 9pm. Great.
Now, I don't do this specific run over and over and over because I want to see all of the sights. Don't get me wrong - the Smithsonian buildings and Federal monuments are beautiful at night, and with the fireflies along my path it really is gorgeous at times - it's just that the loop has an extended period of non-pavement, it's relatively flat, and there aren't many times I have to stop for cars/traffic lights like I would have to do literally anywhere else I ran in this city.
But there's always one constant thing I can count on when I do that loop - throngs of tourists. Plethoras of cameras, accents, languages, and bewildered expressions. I'm not being degrading, I've only lived here a month so I identify more with the tourists than with the DC residents, it's just something I've noticed.
And with the masses of people on the Mall at all hours of the day and night, the number of people who look at me changes drastically when I run vs when I do not (in the same areas).
Now, I don't mean take a nonchalant glance my way then continue on. This is deer in the headlights, OMG-that-guy-has-a-gun, Do-I-know-him blank empty stares. Shit that could make Sauron twitch. LOTR reference? Check.
I thought this was simply because I was running, and most of the time with very little clothing, moving at a pace around 10mph as I don't even glance at the monuments. Odd right? BUT YOU'RE WRONG.
See, I bike everywhere. DC is small, and the metro is expensive. When I'm biking furiously around the Mall, I get the EXACT same stares.
BUT (and this is the super interesting part), when I'm biking very slow, i.e. walking pace, NOBODY gives me more than a glance.
Thus, in summation my hypothesis is:
Velocity of movement is directly correlated with how long people stare at you, or at least how long tourists do.
I'll be testing this in the weeks and months to come. Stay tuned. This is important stuff.
For science! *bow
Friday, June 3, 2011
DIII Difference
The thing you always hear with DIII Runners is "You know, I really enjoy running, I just didn't want to go to a DI school and have it consume my life."
Well, I'm sort of living that for the next 8 months. I'm in shiny, fast paced, and abhorrently humid Washington D.C. until December 15th-ish, back home in August for a brief stint before heading to Hawaii for family vacation, then back to D.C.
Essentially, my life is humid (<-new website?). This is new. I don't like it.
I'm missing Cross Country in the Fall, but I justify it to myself by saying that I need the extended period of base because I lack true strength. This may actually be true. We'll see.
The Fall will be far less humid (I'm told), simply just cold, but I can deal with cold.
But I digress.
The point is, neither running nor schooling is the prime focus until deep winter, which hasn't happened for a number of years. If I have to work through my run, or go to an event that goes through a planned running time, its....its okay. It hurts to say, but it's true.
I have months and months and months and months....a day or two here and there won't hurt, as long as I keep it at a day or two and don't spiral downward into the also-abroad faction that comes back to track season completely out of shape and overweight.
Though I'm putting running aside in terms of immediate importance, it still carries a large weight. My run WILL get done. I WILL race. It just won't be with a team, and it'll be just that - running.
The grueling workouts, the 530am wake-up call, the stretching California hills, the sound of 20 other pairs of feet next to mine, that will all be put on hiatus as I jump start my professional life.
And that hiatus, to me, is the DIII Difference.
DI waits for nothing, DIII waits for me. It just depends on how much I want it when I come back.
Well, I'm sort of living that for the next 8 months. I'm in shiny, fast paced, and abhorrently humid Washington D.C. until December 15th-ish, back home in August for a brief stint before heading to Hawaii for family vacation, then back to D.C.
Essentially, my life is humid (<-new website?). This is new. I don't like it.
I'm missing Cross Country in the Fall, but I justify it to myself by saying that I need the extended period of base because I lack true strength. This may actually be true. We'll see.
The Fall will be far less humid (I'm told), simply just cold, but I can deal with cold.
But I digress.
The point is, neither running nor schooling is the prime focus until deep winter, which hasn't happened for a number of years. If I have to work through my run, or go to an event that goes through a planned running time, its....its okay. It hurts to say, but it's true.
I have months and months and months and months....a day or two here and there won't hurt, as long as I keep it at a day or two and don't spiral downward into the also-abroad faction that comes back to track season completely out of shape and overweight.
Though I'm putting running aside in terms of immediate importance, it still carries a large weight. My run WILL get done. I WILL race. It just won't be with a team, and it'll be just that - running.
The grueling workouts, the 530am wake-up call, the stretching California hills, the sound of 20 other pairs of feet next to mine, that will all be put on hiatus as I jump start my professional life.
And that hiatus, to me, is the DIII Difference.
DI waits for nothing, DIII waits for me. It just depends on how much I want it when I come back.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Finals, year 2
For the second year in a row, I have the damn outside lane. Whatever, I guess 12 is my lucky number now.
The waiting is the worst part. My race is at 3:40. I wake up at 9 to go for a shakeout run.
It feels just awful.
I stretch after 10min, enjoying the morning. Or trying to.
10 more minutes of jogging. Feels better.
It's noon, and I've stomached the last thing I'll eat today. The waiting is definitely the worst part.
I sit around my dorm room. I stand up, it's 1:30. I walk around. Sit back down. Stand up. Lay down. Drink water. Shake legs. Stick legs. Sit up. Screw around on the internet. It's 1:35.
God dammit.
After trying to stay mentally calm yet anxious at the same time, I finally decide to walk down to the track at 2:45. I get my number from the infield, and a little after 3:05 I get my 3 other teammates to go warm up.
My heart is racing no pump up music today thats too much wheres my softer stuff? just calm down, you'll do fine you dont even know how fit you are just calm down calm down calm down
I don't need as long of a warm up today as I did my shakeout earlier. 12min should do fine. I find a spot in the shade, alone to stretch
20min to go, start your active stretching
I'll be told later that I look like a mix of fear and anxiety
10min to go, walk down to the infield, start your strides.
I feel loose, quick. Like my regular running shoes are weighing me down.
7min to go, spike up.
All my warm ups are gone except my longer shorts over my track shorts, which will stay on until the very last moment.
In a line, the 24 individual legs shake out like a reverberating wave. All 12 athletes are being told instructions, and all 12 are ignoring them. They've done this countless times.
The gun washes away every thought.
I glance over and pick my spot, settling into 3rd place around the turn. The man who has chosen to take the race head on early has my blessing, and when he moves I move around 3rd and settle into 2nd. 64 first lap.
Unbenounced to me, the rest of the field hadn't followed us that tightly. While the leader and I went through in 64, the rest of the field went through closer to 66, jostling.
Coming up to 2 laps to go I am confused. The pace has slowed as the leader is tiring slightly, and I'm very, very comfortable. With the 5th fastest PR in the field, the only words I can manage to form over the dull shouts of the crowd are
Where the fuck is everyone. 2:09/10
The pace is slowing and I know a move will come soon. I brace for a move, and it comes on cue. With 600m to go, my 3 teammates fly by at a much quicker pace.
The race has started. REALLY started.
400m to go and I am right behind my 3 teammates who have taken to the forefront, shadowed by one other runner.
There are 5 now, with 2 more only a step off the pace 3:12, a 62 for that last lap for me, closer to a 61 for them
300 to go I have more I have more give me an opening something anything THERE
A spot opens on the inside and I take it, sliding into a dead heat with another runner for 2nd, behind my teammates who has taken first sprint for home.
I'm tiring but they have to be too
I push, and the three of us for a gap on the re-forming pack behind us.
150m to go and I'm gapped in both directions as I start to fade. 100m to go and I just grit.
get 3rd get 3rd get 3rd holy fuck get 3rd
I stave off an attack from a faster peer, and make it. 3rd. A shade over 3:59, 46.x for the last 300m.
The commotion is....loud. The race definitely shook some perceptions all across the board, and was probably exciting to watch that last 300m. I was told that all 7 came back into contention with 250m left.
3rd gives me 1st Team All-Conference. First time I've been first team, I can add it to my two 2nd Team awards.
Slowly, slowly I climb.
Delayed gratification is the best gratification.
The place is set, now it's time to go chase some times.
The waiting is the worst part. My race is at 3:40. I wake up at 9 to go for a shakeout run.
It feels just awful.
I stretch after 10min, enjoying the morning. Or trying to.
10 more minutes of jogging. Feels better.
It's noon, and I've stomached the last thing I'll eat today. The waiting is definitely the worst part.
I sit around my dorm room. I stand up, it's 1:30. I walk around. Sit back down. Stand up. Lay down. Drink water. Shake legs. Stick legs. Sit up. Screw around on the internet. It's 1:35.
God dammit.
After trying to stay mentally calm yet anxious at the same time, I finally decide to walk down to the track at 2:45. I get my number from the infield, and a little after 3:05 I get my 3 other teammates to go warm up.
My heart is racing no pump up music today thats too much wheres my softer stuff? just calm down, you'll do fine you dont even know how fit you are just calm down calm down calm down
I don't need as long of a warm up today as I did my shakeout earlier. 12min should do fine. I find a spot in the shade, alone to stretch
20min to go, start your active stretching
I'll be told later that I look like a mix of fear and anxiety
10min to go, walk down to the infield, start your strides.
I feel loose, quick. Like my regular running shoes are weighing me down.
7min to go, spike up.
All my warm ups are gone except my longer shorts over my track shorts, which will stay on until the very last moment.
In a line, the 24 individual legs shake out like a reverberating wave. All 12 athletes are being told instructions, and all 12 are ignoring them. They've done this countless times.
The gun washes away every thought.
I glance over and pick my spot, settling into 3rd place around the turn. The man who has chosen to take the race head on early has my blessing, and when he moves I move around 3rd and settle into 2nd. 64 first lap.
Unbenounced to me, the rest of the field hadn't followed us that tightly. While the leader and I went through in 64, the rest of the field went through closer to 66, jostling.
Coming up to 2 laps to go I am confused. The pace has slowed as the leader is tiring slightly, and I'm very, very comfortable. With the 5th fastest PR in the field, the only words I can manage to form over the dull shouts of the crowd are
Where the fuck is everyone. 2:09/10
The pace is slowing and I know a move will come soon. I brace for a move, and it comes on cue. With 600m to go, my 3 teammates fly by at a much quicker pace.
The race has started. REALLY started.
400m to go and I am right behind my 3 teammates who have taken to the forefront, shadowed by one other runner.
There are 5 now, with 2 more only a step off the pace 3:12, a 62 for that last lap for me, closer to a 61 for them
300 to go I have more I have more give me an opening something anything THERE
A spot opens on the inside and I take it, sliding into a dead heat with another runner for 2nd, behind my teammates who has taken first sprint for home.
I'm tiring but they have to be too
I push, and the three of us for a gap on the re-forming pack behind us.
150m to go and I'm gapped in both directions as I start to fade. 100m to go and I just grit.
get 3rd get 3rd get 3rd holy fuck get 3rd
I stave off an attack from a faster peer, and make it. 3rd. A shade over 3:59, 46.x for the last 300m.
The commotion is....loud. The race definitely shook some perceptions all across the board, and was probably exciting to watch that last 300m. I was told that all 7 came back into contention with 250m left.
3rd gives me 1st Team All-Conference. First time I've been first team, I can add it to my two 2nd Team awards.
Slowly, slowly I climb.
Delayed gratification is the best gratification.
The place is set, now it's time to go chase some times.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Prelims, year 2
Despite my incessant requests, I was put in the 1500m instead of the 800m for the conference meet, despite really only running it once (a week ago). I ran a 4:01 training through, which threw me up at 6th on the conference lists, one the guys ahead of me is a 5k+ guy so he won't be running it. For all intents and purposes I sit at 5th.
Luckily for me, the 1500m is far weaker (depth wise) than the 800m, so making finals won't be overly difficult, it's just scoring better than 5th over 4 people who are 3+ seconds ahead of me, while simultaneously watching my ass for the 2 guys less than a second behind me.
On the line, I'm nervous. Really nervous.
I know I will likely qualify, but I still am afraid I'll mess up somehow. Step on a rail, get outkicked, make some sort of blundering mistake.
In finals, I never have these thoughts, it's just in prelims. It's just in races where to not qualify means that I have to screw up.
The gun signifies a literal walk from the line. We go through the first lap in a 74. 7.4. What's going on, that's unheard of.
The leader starts to roll back the pace - slowly. We go through 800m in 2:20. A 66, still a joke.
With 400m to go, there are 6 guy still in contention. Top4 auto qualify
If the pack is still tight with 300m to go, my coaches words echo in my head
surge so that you don't have to rely on your kick which will tire you out for tomorrow
I fly around my teammates on the bed, pointing at my chest as I go by, signaling to them in frantic bursts of words ME, ME, ON ME
Our stronger guy is doubling back, and I would rather be the one to push the pace than have him do the work. We come through the 3rd lap in 3:22, a 62 for the 3rd lap, and yet the group is still there.
I push down the back stretch and around the turn. With 100m to go, there are 4 of us separated from the rest, two of my teammates alongside me as we stroll into the finish.
Check back is someone there? close but not that close. slow down. slow down. too much, taper, taper
And the oddest 4:10 I've ever run is done, and I'm into the final.
Luckily for me, the 1500m is far weaker (depth wise) than the 800m, so making finals won't be overly difficult, it's just scoring better than 5th over 4 people who are 3+ seconds ahead of me, while simultaneously watching my ass for the 2 guys less than a second behind me.
On the line, I'm nervous. Really nervous.
I know I will likely qualify, but I still am afraid I'll mess up somehow. Step on a rail, get outkicked, make some sort of blundering mistake.
In finals, I never have these thoughts, it's just in prelims. It's just in races where to not qualify means that I have to screw up.
The gun signifies a literal walk from the line. We go through the first lap in a 74. 7.4. What's going on, that's unheard of.
The leader starts to roll back the pace - slowly. We go through 800m in 2:20. A 66, still a joke.
With 400m to go, there are 6 guy still in contention. Top4 auto qualify
If the pack is still tight with 300m to go, my coaches words echo in my head
surge so that you don't have to rely on your kick which will tire you out for tomorrow
I fly around my teammates on the bed, pointing at my chest as I go by, signaling to them in frantic bursts of words ME, ME, ON ME
Our stronger guy is doubling back, and I would rather be the one to push the pace than have him do the work. We come through the 3rd lap in 3:22, a 62 for the 3rd lap, and yet the group is still there.
I push down the back stretch and around the turn. With 100m to go, there are 4 of us separated from the rest, two of my teammates alongside me as we stroll into the finish.
Check back is someone there? close but not that close. slow down. slow down. too much, taper, taper
And the oddest 4:10 I've ever run is done, and I'm into the final.
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