Is the sophomore slump real? Or just in the heads of those who believe in it? Chris Derrick seemed to do well for himself last year.
I feel okay. I'm a little flat, but that was the goal of my summer training. Flat in September, sharp in November. I have a habit of not getting much faster during the course of each XC season, and I want to change that.
Something IS odd with me though. The last 3 times my heart rate went north of 180, I threw up. Once on a hard 10-miler, once on a 4.5m tempo workout, and once on 1000m repeats on grass.
Naturally, I was a bit worried when I toed the line for our 4mile dual against Westmont college, along the boardwalk of Santa Barbara's beach. It's 8am, and my warm-up was shrouded in mist as I skimmed along the sandy pavement with the ocean breeze softly brushing the fog away. Slowly.
This race is the definition of the word casual. No one has uniforms yet, the impromptu throwing together of a rag-tag group of 100men and women with 3% body fat pushed inbetween trees by an old friendship among coaches. This is a test for both of us.
Our team is looking great this year, and I'm finding myself falling behind in workouts, even with times faster than I ran last year, faster than they ran last year. I'm nervous, but mostly with anticipation.
My hand rubs my stomach unconsciously. I hope I make it through this one. I shake my head.
Brush it off. Go through the motions of your warmup. 2 hops. That's right. Shed your warmups. Stride out. 2 more hops. Man, these Hyperspeed flats got their name for a reason.
The gun is a wizened coach, counting from 3 and yelling GO.
I dash out, slower than the other kids. It's a half mile around the tether ball courts, through the playground and around the portables. Of course, at the time all I know is that it takes a few minutes. The other boys are so far ahead, I can't sprint that fast. But they come back. They always come back. We pass the tether ball and I'm already past half of them. Why don't they see how dumb they look when I pass them? Always excited, just to get run down by the thinnest kid. I like this game.
I'm out comfortably. I sit behind another sophomore who has been running well. Mile 1 - 5:05. That was pretty smooth. Another 600m and I'm at the hill. A steady incline for just under a kilometer, then flat shot 100m to the 2mile turn around.
As the hill comes I just keep my momentum going, passing two of my teammates and one Westmont kid. I'm not making a move, I'm just not slowing down my cadence. Just keep trucking.
10:23. This still feels alright. I turn, and take the down hill with a lean. Slowly I'm gaining on more people. If I can just hang on to these guys infront of me, I know I have better speed than they do. I always have better speed than they do.
I run behind 2 opposing teammates, working together. But they start slowing down. Why are they slowing down.
I can't stay here. They're fading and if I stay here I'll get caught by the group behind me. Just keep your tempo up. Keep rolling. Just keep rolling.
I approach the 3mile, alone in what an injured teammate who's watching tells me in 14th place. 14th? That's gotta be wrong. I'm not that fast at this sorta stuff.
I slowly gain on another group of 4. I catch them right after the 3mile, vaguely hearing 15:34.
All of the sudden the pain is there. Deep, deep burning pain and I'm going to throw up. When I throw up my body convulses as if I'm being shot in the chest, and I seize up and have to stop. I can't throw up, I can't throw up. Not now. I'm running well. I'm comfortable at this pace.
I slow for a good 400m, hoping a bit to quell the vomit that is to come. I hang behind 2 of the guys that got dropped from the others. After 400m, we see the 800m-to-go marking.
I move. Hard. My upper body form is shit. It's falling apart. By my cadence is pure, light, and fast. That's all that matters. Focus on that.
A green singlet is coming back to me, and pretty quickly too. 400m to go. We get off the boardwalk and onto choppy grass. I breeze past him. I don't care who he is, he's done.
There's no one infront of me. Where am I? Where's the finish? I'm running through the trees and I can hear voices and see shadows in the fog. Why am I not done? Where is the e-THERE. GO. GO.
Only final 100m push, and I'm done. 20:46. 11th place.
I'm told I was our 7th guy. 7th guy? But....7 guys go to nationals.
Wait, I have to potential to go to Nationals?
But I thought I wasn't good at cross country. What happened to the sophomore slump?
Monday, September 6, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Lesson 5: Nothing.
I'm broken.
I'm not breaking down, I'm not tired, I'm not sore, I'm broken.
I sleep 15 hours a day. Every piece of furniture I sit on I seem to melt into. My muscles don't seem like muscles. They are bits of marshmallow fluff, disintegrating as they are ignored by the chewed up conversation.
I crave things. Pickles, cheese, spaghetti, eggplant, cinnamon sticks; nothing that has ever passed my lips is enough to fulfill me. I'm full - I crave hunger. I eat nothing for almost a day. The next day I eat 12,000 calories. It doesn't make sense.
I'm broken.
I am clutching my knees, looking at my final split for mile 8. 5:27 flashes at me like a blaring sunlit alarm clock. Taunting me. I spit, stand upright, and immediately have to pee. I jog slowly over to a bush, realize I may not make it, and run faster. I barely get it out in time, and lean back in a dizzy stupor. Finishing, I look down, only to see a mixed pool of blood and urine, unsure of which has more.
I drop things. Spill everywhere. My hands aren't my own. These clumsy mittens shake after holding a dinner knife for more than 20 seconds. Who gave these to me? They're not mine.
I laugh off my embarrassment. "I'm just tired" I lie. I'm not tired. I'm broken.
It is said that training is like a vortex. A series of concentric circles, connected by my sheer will. The harder you push, the deeper the circles are pulled, pulled, pulled.......
And then released.
The anti-gravity mechanics work magic that is not supposed to happen. The further you fall, the higher you top out. The more force you're shot upwards with until you can do things physically that not even other athletes can fathom. The concentric circles work like a giant metal-rubber band and hurl you into the only place that you can accept success; in your highest dreams of achievement.
I park my car outside my house. I lean to tie my shoe as put on the emergency brake. My head leans against the steering wheel. I wake up to a beep of the horn as I slip down. I look around. It's dark. Far too dark. How long was I out for? My joints creek and moan, telling me that it was at least 4 hours. I get out of the car, walking to the house, regretting those 4 hours I wouldn't get back. I hope I enjoyed them.
The concentric circle philosophy has been time-tested. Fullproof. Limitless.
That is, if you survive.
Not very many people survive being broken.
I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I am on the verge of tears, I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going.
Not very many people survive being broken.
I'm not breaking down, I'm not tired, I'm not sore, I'm broken.
I sleep 15 hours a day. Every piece of furniture I sit on I seem to melt into. My muscles don't seem like muscles. They are bits of marshmallow fluff, disintegrating as they are ignored by the chewed up conversation.
I crave things. Pickles, cheese, spaghetti, eggplant, cinnamon sticks; nothing that has ever passed my lips is enough to fulfill me. I'm full - I crave hunger. I eat nothing for almost a day. The next day I eat 12,000 calories. It doesn't make sense.
I'm broken.
I am clutching my knees, looking at my final split for mile 8. 5:27 flashes at me like a blaring sunlit alarm clock. Taunting me. I spit, stand upright, and immediately have to pee. I jog slowly over to a bush, realize I may not make it, and run faster. I barely get it out in time, and lean back in a dizzy stupor. Finishing, I look down, only to see a mixed pool of blood and urine, unsure of which has more.
I drop things. Spill everywhere. My hands aren't my own. These clumsy mittens shake after holding a dinner knife for more than 20 seconds. Who gave these to me? They're not mine.
I laugh off my embarrassment. "I'm just tired" I lie. I'm not tired. I'm broken.
It is said that training is like a vortex. A series of concentric circles, connected by my sheer will. The harder you push, the deeper the circles are pulled, pulled, pulled.......
And then released.
The anti-gravity mechanics work magic that is not supposed to happen. The further you fall, the higher you top out. The more force you're shot upwards with until you can do things physically that not even other athletes can fathom. The concentric circles work like a giant metal-rubber band and hurl you into the only place that you can accept success; in your highest dreams of achievement.
I park my car outside my house. I lean to tie my shoe as put on the emergency brake. My head leans against the steering wheel. I wake up to a beep of the horn as I slip down. I look around. It's dark. Far too dark. How long was I out for? My joints creek and moan, telling me that it was at least 4 hours. I get out of the car, walking to the house, regretting those 4 hours I wouldn't get back. I hope I enjoyed them.
The concentric circle philosophy has been time-tested. Fullproof. Limitless.
That is, if you survive.
Not very many people survive being broken.
I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I am on the verge of tears, I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going.
Not very many people survive being broken.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Weight...less?
It has been two months since I started base season, and I've been averaging around 50mpw, due to some outlier weeks from being tweaked. I'll be up around high 70's/80 miles this week, and will continue to push the envelope for my last month home.
On May 17th, I was 6' 1", 175lbs.
Today, On July 21st, I am still 6' 1", but I am 154lbs.
The change in me has been astronomical. At 175lbs, I was able to break open a race with a huge change of pace. At 154lbs, I float across 11+ miles a day like I'm walking on air.
It's May 28th, I'm 174lbs and on my first LSD of summer training. Jesus my hamstrings are on fire. I'm a sprinter not a distance runner, how long is 1500m anyway? This is supposed to be an LSD and my heart rate is well north of 170, and I'm barely moving oh god why does summer base exist
It didn't take me long to lose weight. A LOT of weight. Any remnants of upper body strength left me within a week. After two, all excess power muscle was gone, I was 160lbs, and slowly getting used to the begrudging mileage.
All of the sudden it's mid June - my first week over 65. My body has completely changed. I work during the day, and see only a select few friends at night for lack of time. It's not that I don't want to hang out with all my friends, it's that I don't want to move, so whomevers closest and doing the least amount of movement is my best friend for the evening.
The friends I DO see comment on how I look like I lost weight often. I don't blame their quizzical stares, I barely recognize myself. The body that I spent all Spring shaping has been cast aside in a matter of weeks, and all I occupy is this new shell. Runners, the mammal hermit crab. Longer, leaner, sleeker. People ask me if I've grown. If I got a new haircut, new pants, new shades. They cant seem to place the source of my transformation.
But I know.
I have one mile to go, as I check my watch mile 8 flashes on the screen - 6:23. Too slow for a hard base run. I ratchet up the pace home, the slight downhill sending shock waves 4x my body weight through every muscle I have left on this frame. Each limb screams for me to stop. There is a knot in my shoulder begging me to stop pumping my arms. My legs have been yelling for at least 2 miles. Each individual abdomen muscle is quickly unionizing against my mind. stop Stop STOP.
All that comes into my head is a long forgotten quote from a long forgotten book
The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience.
It works. PUSH.
The runs are easier now. After 2 weeks at a new distance, my body always realizes that, again, it's not going to win this fight, so the easiest thing to do would be to give in, and maybe it'll feel easier. Lose the unnecessary baggage, and make the work more efficient.
For that, I am grateful. Because while floating along through miles 11, 12, and 13 every sunday is uncomfortable enough, chugging along at 175lbs is downright unpleasant.
I cringe, holding back the urge to vomit as the thought pops into my head - "understatement of the century."
On May 17th, I was 6' 1", 175lbs.
Today, On July 21st, I am still 6' 1", but I am 154lbs.
The change in me has been astronomical. At 175lbs, I was able to break open a race with a huge change of pace. At 154lbs, I float across 11+ miles a day like I'm walking on air.
It's May 28th, I'm 174lbs and on my first LSD of summer training. Jesus my hamstrings are on fire. I'm a sprinter not a distance runner, how long is 1500m anyway? This is supposed to be an LSD and my heart rate is well north of 170, and I'm barely moving oh god why does summer base exist
It didn't take me long to lose weight. A LOT of weight. Any remnants of upper body strength left me within a week. After two, all excess power muscle was gone, I was 160lbs, and slowly getting used to the begrudging mileage.
All of the sudden it's mid June - my first week over 65. My body has completely changed. I work during the day, and see only a select few friends at night for lack of time. It's not that I don't want to hang out with all my friends, it's that I don't want to move, so whomevers closest and doing the least amount of movement is my best friend for the evening.
The friends I DO see comment on how I look like I lost weight often. I don't blame their quizzical stares, I barely recognize myself. The body that I spent all Spring shaping has been cast aside in a matter of weeks, and all I occupy is this new shell. Runners, the mammal hermit crab. Longer, leaner, sleeker. People ask me if I've grown. If I got a new haircut, new pants, new shades. They cant seem to place the source of my transformation.
But I know.
I have one mile to go, as I check my watch mile 8 flashes on the screen - 6:23. Too slow for a hard base run. I ratchet up the pace home, the slight downhill sending shock waves 4x my body weight through every muscle I have left on this frame. Each limb screams for me to stop. There is a knot in my shoulder begging me to stop pumping my arms. My legs have been yelling for at least 2 miles. Each individual abdomen muscle is quickly unionizing against my mind. stop Stop STOP.
All that comes into my head is a long forgotten quote from a long forgotten book
The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience.
It works. PUSH.
The runs are easier now. After 2 weeks at a new distance, my body always realizes that, again, it's not going to win this fight, so the easiest thing to do would be to give in, and maybe it'll feel easier. Lose the unnecessary baggage, and make the work more efficient.
For that, I am grateful. Because while floating along through miles 11, 12, and 13 every sunday is uncomfortable enough, chugging along at 175lbs is downright unpleasant.
I cringe, holding back the urge to vomit as the thought pops into my head - "understatement of the century."
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Turning Weaknesses
Every runner (and person) has their set of weaknesses. The thing about personality weaknesses, however, is that they're very difficult to change.
Running weaknesses are ALSO very difficult to change, but because they are physical, appear more easily dealt with. All you have to do to change yourself is take a mental note not to do / to do X thing. You can even write it down if you don't trust yourself. It's just a matter of habituation.
Running is similar, plus a boatload of pain. That kinda sucks. Kinda.
I used to be HORRIBLE at LSD's. By that, I mean I would have a huge struggle running anything over an hour. Now, it's a breeze. And it only took a full year! Yay....
My next step is Tempo runs. For some reason, I just have a very hard time dealing with these. The bad thing is that to get good at Tempo runs I have to.....well, DO them. A lot. And I severely dislike them. Nothing too appealing to me about trying to hammer 20-30min @ well sub 5:30 pace by myself on hilly roads.
Last week I tried and got to 15min before I vomited everywhere, and then I STILL had another 4miles to go before I was done, which I jogged @ 7ish min pace, feeling sorry for myself. Sounds great, right?
The GOOD thing about Tempo runs is that they are arguably the MOST useful tool in making someone faster, aside from simply a high mileage base. Getting good at Tempo runs essentially means you have gotten good at making the uncomfortable comfortable. It pushes the upper limit of how long you can hold a sub-maximal pace.
I can run ~4:20 mile. How long can I hold 4:30 pace? 5:00 pace? 5:30? Even though those 3 only vary by 30sec/mile, the answers are probably somewhere around 2000m (1.25miles), 4000m (2.5miles), and 9000m (5.6ishmiles).
What tempo runs do is SEVERELY affect those distances. A month or two of Tempo runs may add 1000m to that middle number, which any runner will tell you is a HUGE deal. Turning weaknesses.
I've written about fixing weaknesses before, and this is mine. Blessing in that fixing it will make me a WHOLE lot faster, curse in that there's only one, pain-filled way to go about solving it.
I'll try to remember the blessing side of it as I head out the door in 20min to try my luck again.
Oh, and I will know there is a God when it stops raining.
Running weaknesses are ALSO very difficult to change, but because they are physical, appear more easily dealt with. All you have to do to change yourself is take a mental note not to do / to do X thing. You can even write it down if you don't trust yourself. It's just a matter of habituation.
Running is similar, plus a boatload of pain. That kinda sucks. Kinda.
I used to be HORRIBLE at LSD's. By that, I mean I would have a huge struggle running anything over an hour. Now, it's a breeze. And it only took a full year! Yay....
My next step is Tempo runs. For some reason, I just have a very hard time dealing with these. The bad thing is that to get good at Tempo runs I have to.....well, DO them. A lot. And I severely dislike them. Nothing too appealing to me about trying to hammer 20-30min @ well sub 5:30 pace by myself on hilly roads.
Last week I tried and got to 15min before I vomited everywhere, and then I STILL had another 4miles to go before I was done, which I jogged @ 7ish min pace, feeling sorry for myself. Sounds great, right?
The GOOD thing about Tempo runs is that they are arguably the MOST useful tool in making someone faster, aside from simply a high mileage base. Getting good at Tempo runs essentially means you have gotten good at making the uncomfortable comfortable. It pushes the upper limit of how long you can hold a sub-maximal pace.
I can run ~4:20 mile. How long can I hold 4:30 pace? 5:00 pace? 5:30? Even though those 3 only vary by 30sec/mile, the answers are probably somewhere around 2000m (1.25miles), 4000m (2.5miles), and 9000m (5.6ishmiles).
What tempo runs do is SEVERELY affect those distances. A month or two of Tempo runs may add 1000m to that middle number, which any runner will tell you is a HUGE deal. Turning weaknesses.
I've written about fixing weaknesses before, and this is mine. Blessing in that fixing it will make me a WHOLE lot faster, curse in that there's only one, pain-filled way to go about solving it.
I'll try to remember the blessing side of it as I head out the door in 20min to try my luck again.
Oh, and I will know there is a God when it stops raining.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Summer Grind
A couple reasons I haven't updates this blog - 1) I forgot my password, and 2) I wasn't really sure where I was going to go with it once track season ended.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy cross country. But I LOVE track. There are so many variables in cross country. Track is pure. There are no variables. Anything you do or do not do is the fault and success of you and you alone.
Obviously, again, it's similar in cross country. But is it really your fault if you have a bad race because you get slammed into a pole, or a branch takes your legs out, or the mud takes your shoes away?
I'm not sure, but I don't like any of those things.
But it doesn't matter! Because this is summer. At being both a collegiate....person and runner in summer means a few things. A) Run. A lot. B) Get a job. C) Have fun in nice weather.
Now, this make seem familiar to school, with the altering of B slightly, but I assure you it is no-....
Okay, it is.
The difference in summer training is both good and bad. It takes less time to do, as you just go out and run from home most every day, but it also is a lot more volume, which is NOT easier to do.
This is going to be my breakdown of workouts at the peak of summer mileage wise:
Monday: Run to work - 9miles
After work: To field or track for speed work. 4-5 miles
Tuesday: Run to work - Tempo in middle (about 25min of 5:30-40 pace). Strength when I get there.
Wednesday: Run to work, but longer way - 11 miles. Strides when I get there, +1 mile
Thursday: Run to work, HARD. ~6min pace.
Friday: Run to work. After work, do a hill workout on my street. ~4miles.
Saturday: Easy 15miles.
Sunday: Easy 6-8
That's about 80 mpw. And that's at the conservative end of the spectrum. I may double difference days.
To the average runner, this seems reasonable. To the average person, they are saying prayers and clutching jesus-beads. Or whatever they're called.
The summer grind is no joke, it is how you develop the secret of your success during the season.
And as we all know, the secret is..
..that there is no secret.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy cross country. But I LOVE track. There are so many variables in cross country. Track is pure. There are no variables. Anything you do or do not do is the fault and success of you and you alone.
Obviously, again, it's similar in cross country. But is it really your fault if you have a bad race because you get slammed into a pole, or a branch takes your legs out, or the mud takes your shoes away?
I'm not sure, but I don't like any of those things.
But it doesn't matter! Because this is summer. At being both a collegiate....person and runner in summer means a few things. A) Run. A lot. B) Get a job. C) Have fun in nice weather.
Now, this make seem familiar to school, with the altering of B slightly, but I assure you it is no-....
Okay, it is.
The difference in summer training is both good and bad. It takes less time to do, as you just go out and run from home most every day, but it also is a lot more volume, which is NOT easier to do.
This is going to be my breakdown of workouts at the peak of summer mileage wise:
Monday: Run to work - 9miles
After work: To field or track for speed work. 4-5 miles
Tuesday: Run to work - Tempo in middle (about 25min of 5:30-40 pace). Strength when I get there.
Wednesday: Run to work, but longer way - 11 miles. Strides when I get there, +1 mile
Thursday: Run to work, HARD. ~6min pace.
Friday: Run to work. After work, do a hill workout on my street. ~4miles.
Saturday: Easy 15miles.
Sunday: Easy 6-8
That's about 80 mpw. And that's at the conservative end of the spectrum. I may double difference days.
To the average runner, this seems reasonable. To the average person, they are saying prayers and clutching jesus-beads. Or whatever they're called.
The summer grind is no joke, it is how you develop the secret of your success during the season.
And as we all know, the secret is..
..that there is no secret.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Finals.
I am on my warmup with my other 3 teammates from CMS who made the final. We pass by other 1500m runners, some with teammates, most without. There are 12 of us. Just 12. Over 100 people have run in the 1500m, and the talent pool has been whittled down to 12.
I'm on the line, again. I feel a lot more free today, I'm ranked 7th PR-wise. Top6 get All-Conference awards, and Top6 also score for their team. I have to do something special to score, I have to run very well.
I have to go out a-
My thoughts are interrupted as we are called to the line. The gun goes and we all dash out. The first 150m are quick as we stumble into our positions. I sit in 4th, but the whole pack is together.
We're out hard, but we slow after 200m or so. 65/66 through the first lap. Honest but nothing special. That's mostly because of the first 200m. We stay together through the next lap, and the pace sssssllllllooooowwwwsssssssssss
2:13/14 through the 800m mark. 67/68 or maybe even 69 for that lap. I felt like I was at a quick walks pace.
The pushing starts.
The fighters know the move is going to come, but from where? The hunters rev their minds as they gather for their attack. Who has the best speed? This is a kickers race, and those who live by the sword die by it as well. Eyes are cast all over, as the move IS coming. BUT FROM WHERE
They jockey and move for position, as I content myself with sitting in 8th. We run the next 150m at the same tempo pace, then it happens.
All the sudden someone shoots to the outside and hammers the pace, and all hell breaks loose. Everyone starts sprinting. Before I know it, I am running 62s quarter pace w/ 500m to go and I'm 2 seconds behind with a lap to go. The top4 are long gone, and are getting further away every second.
I hit the bell lap 2 seconds behind 5th place, and about a second and a half back of 6th place. After me, the rest of the field is left fumbling. I am guaranteed top7. I am guaranteed to finish in the place I am supposed to. But that is not why I came. Races are not run on paper.
With 400m to go I start to pump harder and harder. Around the bend I see the head of the guy in 6th start to move side to side. He moved too hard to early, and I get very excited. With 300m to go I legitimately barely have any gears left.
6th place comes back to me with 200m to go and he tries to hang on as I pass him. He realizes it's not going to work and that he can't stay with me and tries to run me outside in desperation.
FUCK THAT not today. This is a kickers race and you stepped into the wrong playing field
I push him off my arm and with 150m to go I just start sprinting. I glance up and I know I can catch my teammate who is dying in the last 100m.
I am 1 second behind w/ 100m to go and making up ground every step. I move out into lane 2 and furiously kick and kick and kick again. I pass him like he's standing still, and cross the line, utterly spent.
In 5th. 4:02, with the last lap of 60/61 seconds. My final 5 meters hurts so bad, but lord it is so worth it.
CMS put 4 in the top 6, aka 4 All-Conference, and 4 scoring runners.
I PR'd with a 60ish last lap, and I got Top5.
I remember writing 'Top5 in Conference' on long term goals. I was told 5 runners who would beat me in the conference.
I beat two of them.
No one knows what you are capable of but yourself.
I'm running my last meet next week, trying to break 4min in the 1500m.
My last 800m was a 2:05, and the race only really started with 550m to go. Last 600m on the order of 1:32/3.
Time to end on a good note, and take some well deserved rest.
I'm on the line, again. I feel a lot more free today, I'm ranked 7th PR-wise. Top6 get All-Conference awards, and Top6 also score for their team. I have to do something special to score, I have to run very well.
I have to go out a-
My thoughts are interrupted as we are called to the line. The gun goes and we all dash out. The first 150m are quick as we stumble into our positions. I sit in 4th, but the whole pack is together.
We're out hard, but we slow after 200m or so. 65/66 through the first lap. Honest but nothing special. That's mostly because of the first 200m. We stay together through the next lap, and the pace sssssllllllooooowwwwsssssssssss
2:13/14 through the 800m mark. 67/68 or maybe even 69 for that lap. I felt like I was at a quick walks pace.
The pushing starts.
The fighters know the move is going to come, but from where? The hunters rev their minds as they gather for their attack. Who has the best speed? This is a kickers race, and those who live by the sword die by it as well. Eyes are cast all over, as the move IS coming. BUT FROM WHERE
They jockey and move for position, as I content myself with sitting in 8th. We run the next 150m at the same tempo pace, then it happens.
All the sudden someone shoots to the outside and hammers the pace, and all hell breaks loose. Everyone starts sprinting. Before I know it, I am running 62s quarter pace w/ 500m to go and I'm 2 seconds behind with a lap to go. The top4 are long gone, and are getting further away every second.
I hit the bell lap 2 seconds behind 5th place, and about a second and a half back of 6th place. After me, the rest of the field is left fumbling. I am guaranteed top7. I am guaranteed to finish in the place I am supposed to. But that is not why I came. Races are not run on paper.
With 400m to go I start to pump harder and harder. Around the bend I see the head of the guy in 6th start to move side to side. He moved too hard to early, and I get very excited. With 300m to go I legitimately barely have any gears left.
6th place comes back to me with 200m to go and he tries to hang on as I pass him. He realizes it's not going to work and that he can't stay with me and tries to run me outside in desperation.
FUCK THAT not today. This is a kickers race and you stepped into the wrong playing field
I push him off my arm and with 150m to go I just start sprinting. I glance up and I know I can catch my teammate who is dying in the last 100m.
I am 1 second behind w/ 100m to go and making up ground every step. I move out into lane 2 and furiously kick and kick and kick again. I pass him like he's standing still, and cross the line, utterly spent.
In 5th. 4:02, with the last lap of 60/61 seconds. My final 5 meters hurts so bad, but lord it is so worth it.
CMS put 4 in the top 6, aka 4 All-Conference, and 4 scoring runners.
I PR'd with a 60ish last lap, and I got Top5.
I remember writing 'Top5 in Conference' on long term goals. I was told 5 runners who would beat me in the conference.
I beat two of them.
No one knows what you are capable of but yourself.
I'm running my last meet next week, trying to break 4min in the 1500m.
My last 800m was a 2:05, and the race only really started with 550m to go. Last 600m on the order of 1:32/3.
Time to end on a good note, and take some well deserved rest.
Conference Prelims: Have you done it right?
Runners end their season at different point, but most end their season at the conference meet.
For me, this means SCIACs. Or in non-acronym form, Southern-California-Intercollegiate-Athletic-Conference(s).
We're paired with the Northwest Athletic Conference (much less cool name) to make up the Western Region in DIII. Basically, we're the Pac-10 / Mountain West of DIII (in regional status only).
My conference meet is nice, and they let everyone run, there are no standards. Unfortunately for me, this means ~35-40 people in the 1500m. Aka heats.
I've never run 1500m or 1600m or Mile heats before, but I've watched and read more than enough to know what the dealio is. 2 heats, 18/19 in each. Top4 from both heats + the next 4 fastest times qualify. The field is cut down by 2/3s.
I've had an alright season so far, and been steadily dropping a tick or two in the 1500m (the 800m is a different story, oof). I'm seeded 4th in my heat, but I'm in the first heat.
Dear god I was nervous. Knowing that you have to do something stupid NOT to qualify is far more nerve-racking than knowing you have to do something great TO qualify.
I'm calming myself down all week, but finally the race is here. I know who to look for by name, by hip number, by height, everything. And they know who I am. I know the potential spoilers, the heroes, the ones who crumble under pressure.
And they also know me. No one knows the tactics. Everyone knows the goal. To. Qualify.
Before I know it I am at the starting line.
Did I warm up enough? I dunno, im a little cold. No you're not! You're fine. The strides were quick and light. But what if I get boxed? I don't have the kick. Yes you do! You have one of the fastest 400m times in the field. What if it's fast? Then GO.
The gun goes off. I get out quick, and settle into second place behind the overall time-leader in our heat.
Mistake. The field goes around us on the turn, and I'm immediately boxed. I'm in 8th at the moment, and there's no way out. The pace is moderately slow, and a 4:35 miler tours us through the first lap in 68. HE wants to PR, and we're content to let him go. For now.
Another, slightly fater guy (4:10 1500m PR) takes the lead at the 500m mark and the pace ratchets up a little bit. All 8 of us quickly cover the move. 800m crossed in 2:14. 66 2nd lap. We go around the bend again and head down the homestraight for the penultimate time.
There's too many people here, it's not supposed to be like this. Two guys have caught up now there's 10 guys in a pack with a lap to go! Nonono what if they have a kick? I don't want to get caught by some hero in the last 200m and not qualify....damndamn I'm stuck...wait a gap! A GAP!!! Take it take it take it
The runner to my right is struggling to hold with the pace. He starts to falter and I snatch the opportunity and break free of the group. I am out into lane 2 and I move.
Hard.
I have 5 meters on the field with a lap to go, no one has covered my move. The move was decisive, and I pass through 1200m. 3:18. 64s last lap, probably 33/31.
I am running scared.I push hard but at the same time hold back, I dont want to expend unnecessary energy.
With 150m to go a Junior from La Verne with a far faster PR than I comes up on my shoulder. We're into the homestraight now, and he starts to move again.
I look back and the pack is still 10m back. Go for it man, you take it I just want to qualify you can have the prelim glory. I should slow down, but I can't have the pack of now 5 guys come back on me in the last 10m. Time it...time it....time it....
I cross the line in 2nd, 1/2 a second ahead of the pack. 4:06.
It didn't feel too bad.
Finals are the next day. I have exactly 24 hours after warmdown ended.
Time to go ice, stretch, and dear god sleep.
For me, this means SCIACs. Or in non-acronym form, Southern-California-Intercollegiate-Athletic-Conference(s).
We're paired with the Northwest Athletic Conference (much less cool name) to make up the Western Region in DIII. Basically, we're the Pac-10 / Mountain West of DIII (in regional status only).
My conference meet is nice, and they let everyone run, there are no standards. Unfortunately for me, this means ~35-40 people in the 1500m. Aka heats.
I've never run 1500m or 1600m or Mile heats before, but I've watched and read more than enough to know what the dealio is. 2 heats, 18/19 in each. Top4 from both heats + the next 4 fastest times qualify. The field is cut down by 2/3s.
I've had an alright season so far, and been steadily dropping a tick or two in the 1500m (the 800m is a different story, oof). I'm seeded 4th in my heat, but I'm in the first heat.
Dear god I was nervous. Knowing that you have to do something stupid NOT to qualify is far more nerve-racking than knowing you have to do something great TO qualify.
I'm calming myself down all week, but finally the race is here. I know who to look for by name, by hip number, by height, everything. And they know who I am. I know the potential spoilers, the heroes, the ones who crumble under pressure.
And they also know me. No one knows the tactics. Everyone knows the goal. To. Qualify.
Before I know it I am at the starting line.
Did I warm up enough? I dunno, im a little cold. No you're not! You're fine. The strides were quick and light. But what if I get boxed? I don't have the kick. Yes you do! You have one of the fastest 400m times in the field. What if it's fast? Then GO.
The gun goes off. I get out quick, and settle into second place behind the overall time-leader in our heat.
Mistake. The field goes around us on the turn, and I'm immediately boxed. I'm in 8th at the moment, and there's no way out. The pace is moderately slow, and a 4:35 miler tours us through the first lap in 68. HE wants to PR, and we're content to let him go. For now.
Another, slightly fater guy (4:10 1500m PR) takes the lead at the 500m mark and the pace ratchets up a little bit. All 8 of us quickly cover the move. 800m crossed in 2:14. 66 2nd lap. We go around the bend again and head down the homestraight for the penultimate time.
There's too many people here, it's not supposed to be like this. Two guys have caught up now there's 10 guys in a pack with a lap to go! Nonono what if they have a kick? I don't want to get caught by some hero in the last 200m and not qualify....damndamn I'm stuck...wait a gap! A GAP!!! Take it take it take it
The runner to my right is struggling to hold with the pace. He starts to falter and I snatch the opportunity and break free of the group. I am out into lane 2 and I move.
Hard.
I have 5 meters on the field with a lap to go, no one has covered my move. The move was decisive, and I pass through 1200m. 3:18. 64s last lap, probably 33/31.
I am running scared.I push hard but at the same time hold back, I dont want to expend unnecessary energy.
With 150m to go a Junior from La Verne with a far faster PR than I comes up on my shoulder. We're into the homestraight now, and he starts to move again.
I look back and the pack is still 10m back. Go for it man, you take it I just want to qualify you can have the prelim glory. I should slow down, but I can't have the pack of now 5 guys come back on me in the last 10m. Time it...time it....time it....
I cross the line in 2nd, 1/2 a second ahead of the pack. 4:06.
It didn't feel too bad.
Finals are the next day. I have exactly 24 hours after warmdown ended.
Time to go ice, stretch, and dear god sleep.
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