State Mile – More

Lap 2 of 4

The first lap was way too fast so I knew I had to give some time back on lap two, but the entire field appeared to be in front of me. How was I supposed to have faith that most of the field in front of me was going to die? My racing times were better than all but two of them, but they weren’t running like they belonged behind me, and I wasn’t so sure either. It was all irrelevant because my body was screaming at me to slow down. I had to ease up or I wouldn’t finish the race, but good grief, I was thinking that the second lap didn’t feel much slower or take any less effort than the first lap.

I think I passed one guy on the back stretch, and I thought him to be a sensible fellow. When I came into the final straightaway of lap two the crowd was roaring for the pack of runners in front of me. The cheering sent a jolt of adrenaline through my body and I was tempted to pick it up and pass a couple guys. That is always a crowd pleasing move, to pass a guy in front of the stands. I didn’t like showing other kids up in front of their parents, and I didn’t want to let the crowd influence my run. It was more important to maintain my pace right on the edge of oxygen debt. I wasn’t going to let them goad me into doing something stupid, like running too fast just to placate them. I maintained my pace and place right where I was.

As I approached the start/finish line for the second time I no longer cared what my split time was. The guy yelling splits to us would be calling out two-something for the half mile time, but that was useless to me. I needed to know what my time was for the second lap, not for the half-mile. If I’d miss-estimated the pace I could either pick it up a bit, or slow it down. Sure, all I had to do was the arithmetic, but I knew from past experience that the arithmetic was impossible given my current distractions.

I was too busy and didn’t have as much as a second to do the arithmetic. I was running furiously in order to catch up and pass some guys as they died during the third lap. The mental and physical effort of forcing my body to run faster than it wanted to go was all-consuming. It was important to mentally monitor my breathing and my lungs and adjust my pace accordingly. I had to constantly yell at myself to keep the pace as fast as I dared lest I cut myself some slack. There was strategy to consider. I had to be careful not to pass on curves. I had to be careful not to get boxed inside. I had to watch out for elbows and back-kicks. My worries were overwhelming. Later on I’d learn from Coach Wilkinson that the second lap was a 67. I continued to wonder if anyone else was hurting as bad as I was.


Lap 3 of 4

During the third lap I continued to persevere. I was encouraged to see several guys dying worse than I was and passed them on the backstretch. It pleased me to see that all was not lost. At least I would not be last, but the pace still seemed fast to me. Krantz and Dennis were still leading the pack, and were “only” 30 yards in front of me. Yeah, if the queen had balls she’d be king. Thirty yards was a long way out front in the Mile. On the positive side, I had run in lane one for the entire race. All the guys between me and the leaders had been jockeying around for position and had often run in lane two on the curves. Maybe they’d wasted themselves with too much fiddly fooling around. Maybe.

At the end of the third lap the man was there calling out split times once again. As I said before, it was useless information. I was too tired to think straight and the time was irrelevant. I was doing what I could and if the third lap was too fast or too slow it didn’t matter. There was only one lap left and there was no opportunity to adjust the pace based on the split time. It was time to get going. I knew there would be no slowing down unless my body rebelled against me.

Wilkinson later told me the third lap was a 68, but I didn’t know that at the time. It was a sensible time given the insanity of the first lap. I had doubts that I had anything left to give, but I was determined to give whatever I had on the last lap. The possibility of failure continued to haunt me. I simply HAD to finish in third place AND run faster than 4:24.