Second to Last

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’ve never been much of a distance runner. At least, I wasn’t born with much natural aptitude for it. Back in high school I ran track and cross country, but that probably deserves some qualifying remarks. I was a jumper in track. Long jump, triple jump, high jump. Maybe got in a sprint relay every now and then. As such, the workouts involved being in the pits more than being on the track. I was better at building sand castles than running 400s.

To compliment track I joined cross country for my junior and senior years, and that’s where my natural running ability surfaced. Or rather the lack thereof. Every practice, every meet, I was the last one in on our team. And ours was one of the weakest teams in the conference. At most any other school, I probably would never have seen varsity. I always ran hard; tried to improve, but my place never changed much. Perhaps the defining moment for me came at the annual Niles West Indian Raider Invitational – the largest meet in Illinois. 299 varsity boys running. I finished 298th.

Through the years I continued running, but sporadically. Run for a few weeks and then I’d get too busy, or too lazy, and then I’d stop for a month or two. In 2006 I gained some focus and decided to commit to running regularly. At first I just wanted to get in shape, but soon I wanted to really find out how fast I could be if I really trained at it. Could I move up the running hierarchy; step up a couple of rungs and actually compete with a class of runners that I could never before be competitive with?

I think I’ve actually managed that to a small extent over the last few years.
But last week I raced the 1600M as part of the Frederick Steeplechasers’ annual Summer Decathlon. After an inconsistent spring and a few other issues, I can’t really say that I was expecting much. And with a 6:35 time that’s pretty much what I got…not much. A few days later I checked out the age-weighted results for the race and found myself, out of 25 male runners, second to last.

That’s a depressing result, but it’s given me something to focus on, something to point to and say, “Fuck no, not that!” Does it mean that I really won’t ever escape my genetic limitations? Will I always be condemned to running at the back of the pack of my peers? The result doesn’t depress me and leave me hopeless; it pisses me off! Ok, so I’ve re-visited this special little place – second to last – once again after all these years. But now I’m ready to leave and I AIN’T EVER COMING BACK!