I've waited four long years for a mindset like that. Damn it feels good to be a part of the team again. Like Quigley said, "It's little moments of brilliance like that race that keep you going for years." Through all the shit, the injuries and setbacks, the poor performances, the flat out despair, it's nice to know that persevering really can pay off. My advice to anyone injured or not performing well at the moment, just give it time. Yes, it's a bitch, and during most of the months cross training or sitting on the couch, or binging your life away you will inevitably come to hate yourself, your sport, and anyone who has the ability to do what you long to do so badly yourself. Yet if there are any two people that can tell you that running will come back and resurrect you from you life of misery, it's me and that long-haired hippie on the cover of that mindset. Don't give up.
So what is that picture of, non-Missouri runners may ask? That's the finish of the KU Dual Meet Men's Mile. But before I tell you how it got there, let's reconstruct the entire race. I'm pretty sure I'll want to relive this one sometime down the road.
Entering into the meet, the odds were stacked against us. On paper, KU was going to clean the floor with us and win possibly the final dual meet ever in this epic rivalry. But we all know what Coach Lynn does with paper every day...
The importance of the mile race could not be overemphasized. It was the first real track event, first distance event, and would inevitably set the tone for the races to follow. However, seeing the times from the KU runners in last weekends meet was a bit discouraging. More than 5 distance runners on their team broke 8:30 in the 3k, clearly indicating that their fitness level was not in question. Ours, on the other hand, was yet to be determined. With only 7 days of practice and two short speed workouts in the bag, it was looking like a 4:20 would be a solid performance. But you never know until you line up and race.
Heading up to the line I was nervous but excited. I hadn't raced in a Missouri uniform on an indoor track since my freshman year, and I almost believed that I forgot how to race. My legs were tired from the 14 miles I'd logged the day before, and my calves were still aching from the speed workout earlier in the week. All systems pointed to a mediocre race.
Slapping on my numbers for the first time in 4 years, I found my spot between the blue and red uniforms, as the started proceeded to make a fool of himself. "16 laps gentlemen," he said as he stepped off the track, causing me and Max to stare incredulously before smirks overtook our expressions. "Uh...that's a bit longer than I remembered this race being," chuckled Max, as the KU guys simply stared at the ground, apparently terrified of the upcoming race. "Well, it's 1600 meters from this line," said the starter as he pointed to the waterfall start line of the mile, 1609 meters from the eventual finish. "Yeah, that's still not totally right," I blurted, as Quigley, Max and I couldn't help but laugh. All the while the KU guys were not enjoying the starter's gaffe in the least, and that's where I realized we had the advantage.
So many races I'd had the same spooked expression, lost in thought and forced to dwell on the repercussions of the race about to start. Yet, this year has taught me more than once, that true focus doesn't mean you have to be consumed by fear. In fact, the frivolous nature of our pre-race antics consoled our nervous minds, and left us all the more aware that what we were about to do was just plain fun.
BANG. We're off. Quickly I drop to the back of the seven man pack, having no intention to lead. The eight laps in the Hearnes center would feel like an eternity, and the more relaxed I could remain in the first half of the race, the better my chances of performing would be.
One lap down and the time was slow. Coach screams to pick up the pace, as we lock into an uphill grind, leaning way over the rails as we gripped the turns. A KU runner pushed the lead, as Quigley battled to break free of his box and trail the leader on the outside. A few strides behind, a second and third KU runner hugged the rails, as Max and I battled to stay within reach.
As the race passed the halfway point, my body began to complain. My legs ached, my stomach burned, and my mind began to lie to me, telling me I was too tired and that this wasn't my meet to run fast. Years of experience sequestered those thoughts and I pressed on to begin catching the leaders. As each lap zipped by, I began to move up. Lap 5 I passed up Max. Lap 6 I rolled past a KU guy on the backstretch and another on the home stretch, leaving me 20 meters behind the leading KU guy and Quigley. As we entered the 7th lap, Quigs took the lead, and began pressing hard. As we reached the backstretch I had caught up, and began resting on my laurels, waiting for the sweet sight of the bell lap.
The bell rang and coming around the turn and on the backstretch I made my move. As I swung wide to pass the lead pair, the KU guy mirrored my tactics, and forced me into lane four. Frustrated, I cut the tangent back into lane one and made a bold decision. In a vanishing premonition, I saw the future, and envisioned Dan moving wide to push the surging KU guy outside. It was time to make the risky pass on the inside.
"No worries...that was awesome!" replied Quigley, and I reveled in the complete exuberance. After the longest journey imaginable, I'd finally found my home: arm and arm with a sweaty, hairy man in a Missouri singlet starving for oxygen, burning with lactic acid, and completely exhausted. It was truly a paradise, Utopian only to those who know the brutal road less traveled.
Like I said, life as a runner is good. The men beat the Jayhawks as the distance team dominated the meet, taking victories in the 800, 1000, and 3k in addition to the mile. The Kush man outkicked tow hawks in "joop-joop" fashion to take the 8, and Ricky and Blake took 1-2 in the thousand. Fellow super-senior Phil King dropped the hammer in the final quarter of the 3k to win in exciting fashion, sealing the victory. It's days like this that I'm extremely proud to be a tiger.
M-I-Z!
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