"For me, giving up is way harder than trying.."
April 24, 2005, I remember it well. I was inarguably in the best shape of my life, both physically and mentally. I had run in some fantastic facilities (indoor at Kent St. and the Armory, soon-to-be at DIII Nationals and the ECAC meets) and was making great strides, somewhat literally, with every meet and every event I entered. I was at Franklin Field on the campus of Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri , which also was the beautiful and historic home of the1904 Olympic Games. It was the conference meet against our hated rivals, although I say that very tongue-in-cheek because it's not Ohio State/Michigan I'm describing, but rather one of very mutual respect due to the knowledge that all of us are more concerned about our matrix algebra homework than our Mile times. I was excited, all of the things I worked for were coming true, seemingly all at once.
Yeah, April 24, 2005. The finals of the 200m, seeded 1st with a preliminary of 21.77. The time surprised even me, the race is not my forte nor did I ever specifically train for it, although logic somewhat dictates that if you're running a 47.36 400, your 200 is going to be pretty quick as well. The finals came, I started terribly - as was often the case due to being 6'5"/using Moye blocks/never practicing it - and was in dead last after 100m, splitting that distance in a crawling, sub-high school level 11.6. I turned the corner, saw home and I finally get the train going, splitting the next 100 in 9.9 and finishing 1st with a school record 21.64. Like I said, I remember it well, everything about it, how I ran, how it felt, everything. I was in such good shape that I simply walked off the track, not even winded. It was controlled fury. I knew exactly what I could do and how to do it. Cold as ice, just get it done.
I bring it up merely for contrast. I knew everything about my body back then, what performances felt like, what I was capable of. I had every confidence in the world. That was the last 200m I ran of any importance; almost three years ago. That is, until yesterday.
To say that I was nervous about the meet would be an understatement, like telling me that ice is cold and that Carrot Top sucks. My body pulled every trick in its playbook to try to convince me to bail. I woke up with a massive backache, no doubt caused by reflex sympathetic dystrophy - a condition I got much worse when I was younger, which is a nervous condition in which your body works itself up to a certain state and almost "creates" injuries. I woke up in a panic about missing my train to get to the meet, everything. I forgot to wash my singlet. My spikes haven't been changed since 2005 Nationals. I was a mess. Every step of the way I had to fight the urge to simply DNS, and fight I did. Man up, man up, man up.
Eventually, I got to the meet and it hit me all at once, all the things that I loved about meets. The teams hanging out in their tents, eating bananas and just enjoying themselves. The constant activity, runners going off, jumpers jumping and the throwers throwing. I sat myself down, watched a few heats, got a feel for the level of the competition of the meet (solid DII/DIII) and thought long and hard about whether or not I was actually going to man up and do it. What if I embarassed myself? What if I run a 27 and some kid who sees my name in a record book Googles my name and sees that? What do I do, just tell everyone that I tweak my hamstring and jogged it in?
Part of the problem was that in the back of my head, I knew that physically I wasn't ready. I've been in training for the last six months, except that I've been training for the Beer Pong and Wing Eating World Championships and not for a track meet. I put on my running shoes about two weeks ago (after having been inspired by a lot of my old DIII buddies; shout out to Aaron, Lou, Adam, Phill) and have just been running distance, getting my feet wet again and forgoing any kind of speed workouts for getting base. So yeah, I knew in the back of my head that I really had neither of those things - not even base, and certainly not enough speed. The speed that I once had, how much do I still have left? Was it training that brought it out, or is it something I always had? I didn't really remember, I couldn't separate it.
I had seeded myself at 24.00, which I thought at the time was a very confident seed. I wanted to get a decent heat that would push me right out of the gate but hopefully not totally embarass me. Like any tall guy, I had hoped for an outside lane for a wider radius around the turn; the God of sprinting (Michael Johnson) must have heard this, and I was bestowed lane 7.
After what seemed like forever, I went to go warm up, the same routine that I did back in school. Run a mile, stretch, do some drills (high knees, butt kicks, and such) and then some striders. However, as is often the case, I warmed up way too early and to make matters worse, there was some kind of timing problem where the meet got delayed 45 minutes between the Men's and Women's 400m hurdles. I briefly considered going to warm up again, but I decided instead to just pace around nervously. I started some small talk with some other athletes warming up, trying to do whatever to keep my mind off the race. Waiting, as they say, is the hardest part. Again, thoughts of bailing flashed through my mind.
Fast forward a bit (which seemed like an eternity), I'm standing above my blocks. It seemed like I waited forever, but now it's here and I'm not ready. You know it's eventually coming and when it gets there, you're still unprepared. They didn't have the standup Moyes, so I took off the left plate from the regular blocks and I'm trying to do a standup/three-point stance, and failing miserably. I haven't done any kind of starts in forever and it was already terrible to begin with, so I know it's going to be rough. These guys are going to eat me up after 40m.
My heart is racing. I feel like I'm already exhausted, but I'm not, it's just my heart beating a mile a minute. I'm trying my best not to false start, both from being totally unbalanced and awkward in the blocks, but also because I'm shaking like a drug addict. Set. Hand down. This is it. The track is warm, the feeling hits me again. I remember this, I've been here a thousand times. A smile breaks through, I'm actually here and doing it. No more bull**** semi-excuses, I manned up and I'm doing it.
The gun. I don't remember anything else, there were no conscious thoughts.
I finished 4th in my heat; I was overjoyed. Not to be kinda cold, but I beat someone, and I was very happy at that. I didn't feel like I ran very fast or hit any kind of top speed but I didn't feel super winded and to my surprise, I didn't really breakdown at the end. It was over, and I was the happiest man in the stadium. I gathered my stuff, and walked around the far side of the track to get ready to cool down. And then it hit me, again, just like I remember.
A whole lot of saliva. Coughing. Uh oh. I know it's coming. Thinking to myself, I hope those bananas don't taste too bad coming the other way...yeah. I took care of that business, and again, I had to smile to myself. Just like it always was, every race, every meet. Run until I puke. I'm probably the only guy in the track world who could make himself puke from the High Jump.
After I gathered myself, I slowly made my way over to the result postings. And again, the waiting. I tried to guess what I had run, based solely on what it felt like and what I remember feeling like a few years back. I finished 4th in my heat, which was great, but again, I was out of shape, nowhere near top speed, and my start would have made baby Maurice Greene cry. I thought, and waited. Paced around, and waited. Listened to Led Zeppelin, and waited. I had come up with an official guess - 24.60.
23.38. I had to look at it twice to make sure they had my name right, and that I didn't run some kind of mythical 180m dash. I could have hugged the guy who posted the times and hey, its San Francisco so that has a way higher chance of being acceptable here than just about anywhere else. Way, way faster than I could have conceivably hoped, and damn if I didn't do a little dance of joy right then and there.
Immediately I thought about the next meet. Imagine how fast I'm going to be if I train right, if I continued being dedicated! I thought it was all gone, my speed, my ability to compete, everything.
This meet, that time, everything, it was exactly what I needed. It proved to me that there's still some speed there. The talent is still there. I'm smiling ear to ear just writing this entry. Two weeks until the next meet, man, how am I going to make it until then?
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Great Blog
7:22 PM, March 10, 2008
.. Posted by lawyer400meters
Nik, your first few entries in your blog are so similar to my life now, and I'm glad you were happy with your time. There is nothing harder than getting older and realizing your best days may be behind you. I think I'm a bit older than you, as I just turned 30, but I also plan to get back on the track as soon as I get over a slight knee injury. I love being out there and and all of those sights and sounds of a track meet that you mention, brought back so many memories
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