So I’ve said before that I hate to lose and have always given everything I do my all. But today I remember a time I didn’t.
I ran track. I was a sprinter and we had three other really fast guys on the team. The four of us ran both the sprint and mile relay. But you get to participate in three events by rule, so we would trade off on the third event.
We had like this preseason meet against some Dallas High School. They were slotted to be the State Track Champs, so my coach eagerly wanted to see us compete against them. There was just one problem. We had two long distance runners; both of them ran the mile. Well that Saturday one had a pulled muscle and the other had the flu.
So coach picked me to run the mile, simply because I had done cross country the previous winter. What a shit sandwich.
Ok, a few details for the inexperienced track fans. All the preliminary heats are run in the morning. Then there is a two hour wait while the participants get to eat lunch or just relax. The finals start around 3 in the afternoon. The very first race is always the sprint relay, which I ran. In this race 4 guys run about 110 yards each passing a baton on the exchanges. The very last race is the mile relay, which I also ran. In that race each guys runs a lap on the track, also passing a baton at each exchange.
Running a quarter mile is a ball buster. It’s one lap around the track at a full sprint. After the race you are wiped out. So I loved it when my third event was the 100 yard dash or the 220 yard dash. They happen quickly and don’t wear you out. But on those Saturdays when I had to run the Quarter mile as my third event . . . well it was rough.
Remember, I would have to run in the preliminary rounds and I always made the finals. So when I ran the Quarter mile as my third event I had to run the Quarter mile 4 times in a day; twice in the Quarter mile event and twice in the mile relay. I hated those days.
But that day, since no one was available, I had to run my usual plus a mile. Back then I was a junior. I stood 6’1” and weighed about 210 pounds. Most long distance runners weighed about half what I did. So when they called my Mile event I stood out like a giant. I kept thinking if those guys had to run with an additional 80 pound I bet I would win by a mile . . . But I just wanted to finish and get out without totally humiliating myself. My goal wasn’t to win, just to finish.
But as I was stretching, and looking at the dorks that ran long distance . . . . Shit, I developed a plan. The mile race is four laps around the track. I figured since I had never run it before, then the first lap I would just stay close to everyone. By lap two I hoped to pass two guys. Then I figured if I could just pass one more each of the final two laps I would finish fourth in my heat, which wasn’t too embarrassing.
There were two heats. I watched the first and saw two guys run away with the race. I figured they must be the studs so maybe I drew some slower cats. Thank goodness!
The race began. I quickly found out that there were two guys in my heat that really didn’t deserve to be on the track team. So contrary to my plan, I blew by them and finished lap one in sixth place. By lap two I was already gassed. But one guy pulled up lame and quit. So by the end of lap two I was in fifth place; and very close to two guys. I dug deep, forgetting about my other races to come, and took off.
I finished lap three in third place. I made up the distance between me and the two leaders on the first curve. I had great balance back then, so I could lean a lot on the curves to increase my speed without losing my balance. We were all within about five feet of each other down the back stretch.
What the fuck was I doing?
I cut inside of number two at the curve and passed him. But he too had a second gear so he stayed on my hip. I was an arm’s reach from number one when my legs turned to lead, my lungs dried up, and my vision blurred. But somehow I kept running. I finished in a tie for second. Not too bad even if it was the slow heat, or so I thought.
About 30 minutes later I ran the mile relay and was abysmal. I was exhausted. And that was when I hear that I was in the faster heat back in the mile relay. AND I HAD MADE THE FINALS.
Argh!
No way I could do that again. So for the first and only time in my life I threw a race. I just had to save something for my event, the finals of the mile relay.
But hey, I still got fourth place in the mile. And then came back to win the Mile relay.
Anyway, the point is that I guess I can quit . . . . sometimes. But then again . . .
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