West Regionals: Clock in, clock out.

Two weeks after conference we find ourselves in Salem, Oregon to run against the best teams in the West Region, all there for a single goal - to make Nationals. Top two teams are assured to go. The third place team is likely to go, and the fourth team may go if they are close to the 3rd place team. It all depends on the selection committee.

No one wants that kind of pressure. Top2 are, again, assured to go. So Top2 it is.

The soft rain wets the course in anticipation the night before. As the fog beings to lift in the early morning, the grass is glistening. Calling.

The course isn’t overly difficult. Four 2k loops, with a 50m hill about 150m past the start, meaning that we also cross it just past 2k, 4k, and 6k also.

Everyone’s mind is ready. The soft banter of the normal team is slightly tapered down, but it’s still there, just like normal. We pile out of the vans, and trot into the mist.

We are in the hotel room the night before the race. Coach is sitting casually, relaxed as the 14 of us guys and girls hang off of every free structure. “We’re here for one purpose, and that is to make nationals. As long as that happens, we’re successful. A job. This is your job.”

The trip is short. We left Claremont midday Friday, and we return Saturday afternoon. We already have workouts scheduled for next week. We’ve been talking about our prospects for a Nationals finish all year. To Coach, to us, to me, this is just another meet that we have to run to get there.

There are no questions. We have 10 guys that are faster than every other teams 7th guy. As long as everyone does their job, we will make Nationals. Another day at the office. That’s all this is.

Jesus Christ my nerves are going crazy. I have to settle down, or my stomach will kill me during the race.

The gun fires and I burst out. I don’t want to get stuck behind slower runners on the hill. I get up it fine, and settle into my pace.

My goal for the race is top35, as that is All-Region. As our 7th runner, if I get in the top35 and am our 7th runner, we will have easily made Nationals, so that is my goal.

I settle into ~45th place through 2k, and begin to work my way up. It’s the best way I run, and it hasn’t failed me yet.

Coming up on 3k, I’m feeling flat, but still holding pace. Not moving up as nicely as I would like, but still around 42nd, with a pack of guys ~30th-38th 100m ahead of me.

We take a sharp right hand turn at the 2nd mile mark. The guy I’m running on the outside of slips slightly, and his elbow crashes into my abdomen. Hard.

I throw up. Immediately.

My nerves from the previous day and the morning of have hurt me more than I would like, and my stomach is fragile. But this fragile? Fuck. FUCK.

Running under 5:20 pace while vomiting is not the easiest or most pleasant thing in the world. Still, it’s a god damn race and I’m not dropping out.

I fall back into 46th place, and regroup for 800m. Bring my breathing back to normal. Okay. We still have 2miles to go. Lets start to work.

Another 800m passes. A sharp pang. More throwup.

I pass 6k. Pang. Vomit. I’m falling further back.

Kick for home. Finish.

50th place.

The strength of CMS XC is in our depth. I ran poorly, and was still 10 places ahead of the next best 7th runner in the conference. But I still ran poorly.

But, my teammates were there to lift us up. Took 2nd (63-65 to Willamette. So close) in the region with phenomenal races throughout.

Time to regroup, because next week were going to the big dance.