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In Flooded Fields

November 3, 2018 (Morning)

Exercise Type: Run

Comments:
The Leaves Fall....
I will start with the race, so if you would like to read my assorted running thoughts, you should scroll down a little bit. I’ve been thinking about this one a great deal, so if you are a present GDS runner(meaning you know me) or you are not, I think what I have to say is valid and instructive, and hopefully what I say about the team rings true with you as well.

My race was fine. Like all the others, not good, not bad, just was. I had a tough time with mental headspace this season, with college stress and with these championship races. It can be tough to deal with at times. I tried very hard to work to help foster a welcoming team environment, and I think that continues as it always has and always will. I felt that team moment as I passed our little encampment on the first lap, and tried to move upward, but in the end, I was a little fried.

I’ve run several hundred miles since June, I’ll figure the number out after tomorrow’s long run. It seemed like my legs felt a little like wood. I passed a cumulative total of 5 people after Anthony told me to count. In the end, I’m just tired. The course isn’t my favorite. I’m making excuses. I disappointed myself again, and I suppose now I’m used to it. It is indeed a little sad, but there’s nothing I can do about it now, except put my head down and give it my all.

As far as a quick race summary, I started out basically with the pack of three in back, Alex, Siff and Hurricane. The first mile was together, at which point I let them go. I began to do my usual race thing, and was flagging by the time I passed the team, at which point I felt the fabled strength I have never tapped. It passed by the 2.5k mark though. I continued to move up in the race, and passed a hurting Hurricane at roughly the 4k mark. My kick was like the others, pathetic. And then it was all over.

One Last Time:
Now begins my reflections. The final meet brings out of the woodwork a great deal of reserved thoughts and memories, a bittersweet exhaustion and an eye towards the future. This season has been a little bit different. This is not the team I ran with for three years. I suspect this is how all those past seniors felt when their seniors graduated, but I’ll never really know. The last XC race for me probably means the end of my competitive XC career, so this is a crossroads for me. I’ve run 31(32?) high school XC races, with my pr at 19:13 from Third Battle last year. I’ll touch on that later. I don’t remember most of them. I do remember running the Episcopal Relays with Aidan Kelliher freshman year though, and I remember trying not to walk at Oatlands, the rainy spray at Salesianum and the glories of Third Battle. I remember the clear day of MAC champs and I remember the rain streaked triumphs at Fort Dupont’s last DCXC. I too remember the glories of DC/MD private school championships. I don’t remember the pain of Sophomore year. I remember the perfect day at Third Battle last year, and I equally well remember the disappointments of Gtown Prep. I remember the mud and the rain from this season. I think about the battle tested legs I brought to slosh through the mud at Lake Forest, DCXC, Salesianum, MACS and States. I remember the cold that plagued me at Third Battle.

History Has Its Eyes:
The years have not been kind to my running memories, of steady runs and of workouts. I do remember past teams well though, and from all of those runs, I have built a collection of memories about the teams of yore as well. I was discussing the seniors from my freshman year with the SSC boys on Monday. I thought about Sam “Sam Slater” Slater, Sahil, Noah Boorstin and others. I didn’t really think about the Juniors, but they all understood this team, and reveled in its myriad complexities. The grade above me, the ones I spent the most time with, and imparted on me the values and culture of this team are the ones I remember best. They gave me so much wisdom, experience, passion and so many lessons, history and otherwise. I wonder what they would have thought their legacy would be. What would they have hoped future freshmen would think of them? Did they hope future freshmen would think of them? Will our seniors be remembered when my grade is gone? I hope so. I think this is a lesson to try and leave your mark where you can.

Never be Satisfied...
My mantra. I kid. In all seriousness, there is a balance to be struck between never being satisfied, and content with everything. At some point, I am motivated to be better every week. At others, I am not. It is ok to have a little fun once in a while, even if I never had it(I think this is a joke). As I said at camp, I believe that hard work is the single most important aspect of this sport. I wouldn’t be where I am without it, and for those who chose not to do so, there is no shame, just that you should not expect to be great. I appreciate and respect hard work, I don’t appreciate laziness. There is of course, an in between. Your whole life needn’t be running. If it is, kudos to you. Nonetheless, the level of effort I see my teammates put in over the summer and every single day is remarkable, and is true for most everybody on most runs. I think it is worth the effort and time to train like you mean it, over the summer, during spring break, over the winter, whatever it takes to be the best you can be. It is always worth the fight. Lord Nelson at Trafalgar said it well--Do your job. Your teammates expect as much.

Tomorrow, I will run out into the gathering dawn, lit up with the brilliance of the dawn, watching the carpet of cascading leaves, in hues of red, orange, auburn and yellow. There are a few takeaways that I view as most important from my time here. I know that you who are reading this understand these, but it is worth repeating, no matter the necessity.

The team is the most important thing. More than your pr, more than the people you like and dislike. The culture, so long as Anthony is here, will be sound. It should still be on the mind of every team member, what is important about this team, what makes this place special. I think its something you have to buy into. Needless to say, if you are this deep into my log, because you are riveted by my prose, because you are procrastinating, or because you are interested in what I have to say, you probably have already bought in.

Stories, culture, memory, games, random things. These are all varying possible conversation topics on runs. That is part of what I love about this team. The irreverence combined with a sense of humor(though this needs to improve) and a desire to be in the moment, is a wonderful mixture. What does it feel like to be a bat? I have no idea. Is James Bond a Rom-Com? No. These types of discussion are part of what makes this team special. I have told many team histories. Hopefully we will hear more tomorrow. Imparting wisdom has been part of my job this season. I hope I have imparted what past Seniors did for me. I will say, that a good running game cannot be beat for a long sojourn into the light woods of Glover.

The lush spring green of March, the dark greens of Summer. The rich hues of October, the stark blankness of Winter, the budding of February. The seasons come and go, and we pass through them like shadows in the night. Stand out in the night. Make your mark. Make every moment count. There is no other recourse. The end of all things is final. It ain’t coming back. Hold on tight. Of course, there is track, and opportunities to come back as an alum, but I don’t think its the same. The sense of community that drew me in as a Freshman, not running every day with the same people will be challenging to deal without.

It will be a challenge to find things to say about Spring Track now. Nonetheless, I will find something. Our procrastination is now done, you can return to work, and I can apply to college. In the meantime, I wish to be swept away, as I hope that you do now, back to Manidokan/Makemie on that Friday morning, closing out our long runs, under the shade of the white bows of those trees, with quietly rustling and ripening leaves, listening to the sounds of silence, wishing to be taken home by cross-country roads.
Thank You for ten seasons, and here's to two more.