By September of last year, the high schoolers had gotten to know me -- or, at least, tolerate my presence on their turf since we never officially met. All the better, then, as I had yet to start substitute teaching for the Flint Hills Public School District. Gotta make some money somehow, and the school schedule is really conducive to high level training. I didnāt get my first call from the High School until the first week of October.
Having run road races for most of this year, I think itās funny how so many people -- runners included -- seem to think that everyone who is fast (whatever āfastā actually means, anyway) is a spoiled professional athlete making thousands of dollars. That notion couldnāt be further from the truth. In fact, most of us trying to make it on the post-collegiate scene made little if any money from the sport. We all had to works real jobs to get by, and weād be lucky to get so much as a discounted pair of shoes. When youāre running upwards of 100 miles per week and going through a pair of shoes about every six weeks and travelling to races and paying inflated entry fees, costs add up quickly. Even the most modest prize purse at a road race can attract athletes from hundreds of miles away, and anything gained is treasured.
That said, coming home with prize money was never about the actual dollars and cents of things; it was a validation of the training you were doing and a signal that someone out there appreciates it. When youāre running for a team in high school and college, your teammates and coaches make up a collective support system where everyone lifts each other up during rough patches and celebrates together during wins. Out in the post-collegiate scene, that camaraderie is simply gone and itās replaced by the existential truth that no one cares about your performance -- not even fellow runners. In fact, some of those other runners might actually resent you for being fast, whether out of jealousy, misplaced intimidation, or a lack of understanding of the grind. What prize money signals -- even if you donāt win any -- is a race director who says, āWe appreciate you, competitive runners. We know that what you are doing is a little bit different than everyone else here, and we want to acknowledge that difference. The concept of road racing wouldnāt exist without people like you, and we want to show you that appreciation.ā
Prize money is not about the actual money; itās about the validation that it provides to those seeking to push their limits.
For the foreign athletes here today, itās a totally different story. The Japanese have a well-constructed professional system, where corporations sponsor official teams with athletes who are paid a salary to train and compete, just like any other professional system. Itās similar for the Kenyans and Ethiopians, only without the backing of corporate sponsor money. They live and run in these large training camps, often led by one or two star runners who put much of their race winnings back into the camp to support their fellow athletes. When youāre an athlete who can devote all your time and energy to the simple pursuit of covering standardized distances on foot as fast as possible, doing so without having to worry about money can be a huge advantage -- and any money won is life-changing. $1,000 goes a lot farther in East Africa than it does back in the States.
As much as we like to think of Africa as more primitive or less advanced than us, thatās not actually the case. There exists a much more robust infrastructure to support professional athletes which weād do well to emulate. Hell, I know that even Kelley works part-time at his local running store in Oregon slinging shoes. And heās one of the best runners in the country! I guarantee no other Kenyans or Ethiopians (or Japanese, for that matter) are working anything similar.
Itās no wonder the East Africans and Japanese are generally faster and have more depth than the Americans, and itās no wonder why, in the sixth mile, the lead pack dynamics have shifted. The group is now being paced by two Kenyans and a Japanese athlete. The small American contingent, myself included, run in the rear of the phalanx. Itās not the worst place to be -- tucked into the draft, patiently letting others do the mental and physical work -- but itās also not a position of confidence. Understandable that I would be in such a position, but it doesnāt bode well that my countrymen are in the same spot, especially after two of them had been leading for most of the first half hour of the race.
***
I had just wrapped up my version of the infamous Michigan workout on the school track: one mile in 4:48, straight into another tempo-paced mile in 5:17, then shifting into a 3:32 1200m, followed by a 5:14 mile, 2:19 800m, one more 5:10 mile, and a final 67 second 400m. Six miles of alternating pace running without standing or jogging rest. No, those ātempoā miles were supposed to be ārest.ā My general training philosophy is that, since you donāt get to rest during a race, why practice it in a workout? This may be a slightly unconventional approach, but with three weeks to go until my goal race for that fall, it had me excited about the possibilities.
I was cooling down around the infield, dodging the occasional stray soccer ball, when the Amelia started jogging with me. A few of the runners were still hanging around, but it looked like practice was officially over and most had left.
āYou know, you can come say āHiā to us anytime, we wonāt bite,ā she said. āWell, except maybe Murray. That kid has some ADHD issues and heās strange even for a Freshman.ā
āOh,ā was all I could reply, a little out of it after the workout. I might have run a little harder than I had planned.
āActually,ā I gathered myself after a few seconds, āI should be subbing here sometime in the next couple weeks. You were right to mention that opportunity.ā
āThatās great news! I told you so.ā
She held out her fist for me to bump in celebration.
āSo how much mileage did you end up doing today?ā She asked.
āSix miles for the workout.ā
āAll continuous? No rest?ā
āThatās right. I hate resting; it just makes the workout unnecessarily longer.ā
āThatās a pretty killer way of working out. Surely you have a half marathon coming up?ā
āI do, in about three weeks.ā
āSo have you thought about going for Olympic Trials standard?ā
āI wonāt lie, running sub-1:05 has been in the back of my mind.ā
āDo it. The qualifying window it just about over, and with another month to the marathon it makes for a nice little springboard.ā
āYou have this all worked out, donāt you?ā
āI have a couple former teammates going after it, thatās why Iām so invested.ā
āAre you chasing it?ā
āMe? Heck no. My racing days are over.ā
A slight pause in the conversation as a soccer ball streaks in front of us.
āSay,ā Amelia continues, āI think I figured out where I recognized you from.ā
āReally? Where?ā
āNCAA Regionals in Austin. Last May. You ran the 10,000m?ā
āWow. Yeah. I did.ā
āI thought so. You were the odd one wearing sunglasses in an evening race. Or badass, Iām not sure which one.ā
āProbably mostly odd. That was a rough day for me. And theyāre prescription lenses, I canāt see very well without them.ā
āWell, that makes sense.ā
āIām sorry, but I donāt recognize you.ā
āNo thatās normal. I was in the stands that weekend, cheering on teammates. My college career was done by then.ā
āAh, Iām sorry.ā
āDonāt be. One final hurrah, you know?ā
I was done with my cooldown and we had stopped running by that point.
āWell, donāt let me keep you from whatever else you have to do,ā she said. āIt was nice jog with you, and any time youād want to run with the team weād love to have you!ā
***
The sixth mile is our slowest one yet at 5:10, thankfully. The pack remains largely unchanged; Iām still hanging in the back with the rest of the American contingent. I think Iām in about 13th place? 30:27 total time gone and only twenty more miles to go. Yikes.
**********
Click here for previous chapter: Mile 5
Comments
Post a Comment