1:13.9 Minutes of Fame

I signed on to this blog as an observer giving perspective on some of my personal running experiences and to express emotions and thoughts I go through watching my son as he pursues his high school track career. Eric aka Dr. K brought up a 600 yard race I ran in the Nassau Veteran's Coliseum when I was a high school senior. His post brought back a flood of memories and since he invited me to share that experience, I'll indulge. I also offer an advance apology since I don't want to bore anybody with my own past accomplishments, no matter how insignificant they may be!

The race in question was indeed a high school lead-in event for a professional meet (when there was such a thing) I believe 1974 was the first year of a short-lived professional running circuit that did include some of the top names at that time i.e. Jim Ryun but they were at the tail end of their running careers. The high school 600 was significant for me in several respects. It turned out to be the best race I ever ran in certainly the biggest and most exciting venue. It's hard to not feel pumped running in front of more than 12,000 fans in a professional sports arena and on the same program as many of my running idols. It's also a race that for me, nearly did not happen.

My high school coach entered me but when we arrived several hours early, the meet director who was the coach of Mephem High School, a Long Island track powerhouse that featured among other elite runners, Mark Bilger, decided I was not fast enough to compete with the field. I don't remember what time I was seeded at but given the caliber of the competition, this guy was not entirely wrong. While my coach protested, he did not make any headway and informed me that we made the trip for nothing. That's when my father sprung into action.

This calls for a brief digression. My father was a professional salesman. Frankly, I think he was one of the best natural salesmen who ever lived. My dad would go into a car dealership, name some rediculous low price he was willing to pay for a new car and then argue with the dealer, sales manager and even owner until he got his way. The end result was frequently the car he wanted, upgraded options and an offer to work at the dealership. When he heard I was not running, he sought out the meet director. The poor guy never had a chance. I asked dad what he was going to do and the response was "don't worry about it, just go warm up and be ready to run." It took about 90 minutes (we always arrived to meets early) but he wore the meet director down until he made an exemption and agreed to put me in the first heat (the slower one) of a two-heat event judged on time.

I was notified 20 minutes before the race that I was running. I was already warmed up and very relaxed becasue I never thought I was really going to get into the race. A major life lesson for me was never underestimate my old man! Now that I was in, I suddenly felt very cold, even a little shaky. I was scared out of my mind! It did not help when the meet director came over to me, looked me in the eye and said, "don't embarrass me kid!" As if I needed any more inspiration, my dad's parting words to me were "this would be a great time to run the best race you can."

I opened this entry saying that Eric's invitation to share this experience brought back memories. I lied. To this day I remember every detail of the race. I felt like my entire career as a runner was riding on it. Although it turned out to be the pinnacle moment for me as an athlete, I did not know that at the time. I wonder how many of us go through such a significant experience and then come to the realization later. It still amazes me to look back on something like this and say to myself, "Yeah, this was the moment when you hit your peak" and remember what it felt like to actually live the moment.

When we lined up, I blocked out everything but the open track ahead and the starter. I noticed that one of my competitors was a guy named Ricky from one of my school's arch competitors. Ricky was one of those guys who was a very good runner and could have been great if he worked at it. Let's just say that this guy was not the brightest light on the tree when it came to academics and spent a lot of time drinking beer and injesting other artificial substances not known for enhancing athletic performance. But he was good and I had never beaten him. Oddly enough, I did not care about him. I was running for pride. I didn't want to let my father down and I didn't want to embarrass myself. I had the best motivator in the world, fear!

I always had a quick start and a decent finishing kick but I really won most of my races in the first 200 yards. On an 11 lap track, the 600 was 3 and 3/4 laps. You started at the beginning of the backstretch and then had 3 laps from the finish line. My usual 600 strategy was to go out fast and grab a lead, control the turns and hang on to the end. At the sound of the gun I flew off the line. I was possessed and when I came off the first turn, I did not hear or sense anybody near me. When I finished the initial 3/4 lap, I snuck a look behind me and was amazed that the next runner was just coming off the back turn. I remember thinking this could not be happening! I was in the biggest race of my life and I had the kind of lead that short of catastrophe, is near insurmountable in an indoor race.

I had no idea what my pace or splits were. I just kept thinking I had to keep running as fast as I could and not waste time or energy looking behind me. This race was mine. I was going to pull off the big upset. The college recruiters would be waiting for me at the end of the chute!

A lot of professional athletes say that they block out the crowd in a stadium and never really notice the thousands of people watching or hear the cheers, screams and catcalls. They are so focused on the game and their performance, they don't notice. I found this to be true. I never remember hearing cheers, noise or anything else. I was focused on the empty track ahead and trying to keep the number of laps straight. I was running freely and effortlessly. It was the true runner's high and up to this point, never felt so good. I do recall the sound of the gun lap and thinking all I had to do was to hang on for the final lap.

This was also the time that fatigue and "riggy" started in. I began to labor but still felt strong. In fact, I thought at the time that I was faster and looser than I had been in previous races and even with fatigue factors, I would turn in a good time and win the heat. But my old buddy Ricky was behind me and although I did not realize it, he had significantly closed the gap and was within striking distance. I went into the back stretch and the final turn still oblivious to anybody behind me. I came off the final turn with just the last straight to the finish line and victory! Only as I came off the turn, Ricky was on my right shoulder. How could he have closed the gap? We were running stride for stride to the finish. At this point, I was running so hard, I never thought I would recover from the pain in my legs and chest that came with each labored breath. This was truly the hardest effort I ever recall asking my body to give and the sudden realization that I could lose in the last strides hit me like a brick. And that's exactly what happened. Ricky out leaned me at the finish.

We staggered across the line both of us totally spent. I shook Ricky's hand and we ended up hugging each other. Most likely to keep from falling down! Oddly, I don't remember feeling all that disappointed that I lost. My best time coming into this meet was in the high 1:14's. Not a bad time for a suburban high school runner. I also gained new found respect from Ricky. In between gasping breaths he murmured something like "that was a f------g unbelivable race man!" which was about as eloquent as it got from him. Then I got the time, 1:13.8 for Ricky, 1:13.9 for me. There it was, a personal best and a new school record! I desparately wanted the victory but track is one of those sports where personal performance can still be a victory in and of itself for the runner. I knew I did something significant for me and I certainly held up my end of the bargain my dad made with the meet director. The family honor was saved!

As it turned out, the second heat was indeed the fastest. The field was mostly made up of runners from New York City and these guys were good. My time ended up tying for 5th place overall and I got a medal out of the event. It was with no small feeling of smug elation and relief when the meet director handed me the medal, looked me in the eye and said, "I didn't think you could pull it off but you ran a great race." My parents were overjoyed, even my then girlfriend who did not really appreciate track was impressed! I just felt like the cheshire cat who ate the bird in a single gulp!

So that's the story. I'm sorry if I rambled but I hope you guys can appreciate the full story. Especially as we're all track guys, I thought it's something we can relate to. Oddly enough, I never ran that time again and still can't say exactly why. With respect to Coach Truce, I certainly trained hard enough when I got to Binghamton. Maybe it was the combination of the circumstances and adrenaline pumping through me at the time. No matter. It was my shining moment and a cherished memory I'll always carry. Thanks for letting me share it with you.