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Firsts and Lasts

May 11, 2019 (Morning)

Exercise Type: Run

Comments:
Wow. I have a lot to say and its kind of late, so I might not do this whole thing now-- and I need to write a goodbye log, so maybe I'll save some of my many thoughts(maybe that one will be the poetic one) for another day. In short, today was weird. My first and last MACs. There were moments of excitement and sorrow. There were moments where I felt the old fire still burning, and moments where I wanted to be as far away from the track as I could possibly be. I wanted some closure today, not just for high school running, but for my competitive time as a runner(I know this isn't necessarily true, but it feels that way a little) as well. I didn't really get that. I know my time tied my PR and that I should be happy with that, but at the same time, if you don't dream big at championships, then when should you do so? Additionally, I knew it was unrealistic to see this team win the MAC, but I am cognizant of the fact that as a freshman in XC, no-one had EVER lost a MAC championship, and now as a senior, no-one on this team has ever won a MAC championship. That doesn't feel great.

I have often seen myself as part of the line of GDS boys captains stretching back to the beginning of the last dynasty, despite being a little shorter, slower and grouchier, a line which I feel is ending in a way. Many things will change and many things will improve, but it feels to me that a new era will begin next fall. It just doesn't feel good to walk in those lengthy shadows, and stare at the rows of banners and know that I was unable to achieve what they did, but also to be the last of the line.

I spent some time thinking this week about the moment before the gun goes off. Thinking about the moment you scamper up to the curve, hearing the soft clank of spikes on the red rubber, lifting your head to watch the starter raise the gun and arms as one, that interminable stillness and eerie quiet before the gun fires, and then in an instant, the lofting of a hundred steel talons as one, ready for the tempest-- that great contest that is a track race. In that instant, what goes through your mind, what demons must you conquer, and what prepares you to soar?

I thought I was ready to soar today. Matt, Delo and I went through our routine and warmed up with plenty of time to spare. We got to watch some races and had a fairly uneventful warmup. Our striders were a little tighter than preferable, but that was ok. On strider number 7, I knew I was ready, ready for whatever mighty force fate might throw in my way. I was excited to race, prepared and dare I say, happy.

The race started, and I got a little stuck, but soon found my way to Siff. The first lap was a quick, too quick in hindsight. On lap two, Siff and I were close, and after a quick verse to myself, I caught him. He pulled a few steps away, and remained there for the remainder of the race. Laps three and four just kinda passed. I finished in 5:12.1- the same time as last week. It was a disappointment, but as many of you know, that's sort of come with the territory these last few years, running-wise.

As far as the rest of the meet went, I was generally pleased. I thought that Corbin's last 100 of his 32 was sterling and it in fact made me smile a bit. The fact that we return so many scorers from this year also makes me happy. I am comfortable in the knowledge that next year's seniors will carry the torch well. It's all just a little sad for me. If you are going to be here next year, and have made it through this log, win a banner for me. Win it for all the other soon-to-be alums, alums, coaches and for your teammates. Don't lose sight of what matters- the team. So that seems about right to conclude on- I'll log my memories and assorted musings for DCSAA.

JK! I decided I didn't want to go to bed. In the beginning, I didn't know much. I knew I liked running, but it wasn't like my thing. The first memory I have was meeting Anthony at the last STA run. I don't think we talked for very long. Then I came back for a run with the team before XC camp(August 20 2015), and I went on a run that was too far, too fast and too much for me. I knew nobody. I'm pretty sure I ran with Jacob, someone else and Harrison Pratt. It was a little weird. Then I went to camp, and I got my first taste of magic.

Sometimes I think about running down those scorching roads, and sitting in the lodge, fresh faced and dewey-eyed about it all. I remember sitting there by the campfire, the crackle of the logs, the smoke and watching these people I had never seen before sob uncontrollably. Adults, veteran runners, legends, giants, crying over the rich smoke of that fire. Then, it was bizarre to see them cry. Now, I know their tears. They spoke of growing up on this team, from teens to adults, all in the blink of an eye. The next morning, as we glid into the summer mist, Matt Ishimaru told a joke with no punch line. His voice commanded our silence, and the chorus of our feet in unison, fell silent before the story and the breaking of the dawn.

For then it was dawn. It was the first moment of my high school running career where I felt like I belonged. A few weeks passed, and it was time for Oatlands. I had one mission that scorching September day, to not walk. I committed to myself that every last step of that race, I would run. By Autumn, I knew I had found a place, a place for me. I would be big and strong, fast and a leader, a champion. Today, I look back and wonder about what could have been. I think I'll stop there. I will write my assorted thoughts about running for DCSAA.