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A series attempting to follow selected runners as they travel, race, and highlight their personal experiences while doing so.</p>
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The Saint Paul's journey to state begins two days prior, as our team met early Sunday morning for a mass at a local monastery, St Joseph's Abbey. We have done numerous training runs through the overgrown trails of the Abbey, so I found it fitting that we should return here one last time before our final race. After the service, my teammate Michael Burke and I spent a great deal of effort trying to put our art history knowledge to the test and to discern whether the church was of Byzantine or Romanesque styles. After intensive thought, we decided it was a little bit of both. We all then went to Kraemer's house, got in our run for the day, and went home to prepare for the next day's trip.
My brother and I got to school at the usual time on this anything but usual day. For every good luck and pat on the back we received, there was an equal amount of sarcastic "don't blow it this time." To the Saint Paul's student body this was the third time their cross country team left for state number 1, and they previously returned a different ranking entirely. Their flippant remarks were nothing more than humorous teasing-they wanted us to bring it home just as much as we did. Third times the charm, right?
The bus left around 8:30 and we were on our way. The bus was abnormally spacious....rather than the typical 50 some odd kids crammed in, I was only one of 8. It would have been 9 had one of our senior alternates not been sick. As much as I would have liked to have many of my other teammates there, the trip was far more peaceful with just the 8 of us. Besides, most of our team would travel up on their own the next day. Coach Terryl presented us with two shirts, as he does for the team at state every year: the first, a nice St Pauls cross country shirt. The second, a somewhat risqué shirt saying "train hard, don't suck." The bus ride was filled with on and off naps and conversations, nothing really out of the ordinary. We stopped at a gas station only to find the John Curtis team there as well. We told them hey and talked for a bit, before eventually heading on our own way. We stopped for lunch as we do every year at the Alexandria Cracker Barrel and loaded up on some fantastic pancakes. I managed to beat the Cracker Barrel Golf Tee game and was deemed, by Cracker Barrel standards, a genius. We then arrived at our hotel, changed into running attire, and headed out to jog the course. We found the first day's times to be a little slower then we expected, but that didn't matter. The state meet was about place, not time. We then jogged the course, only to find it hadn't changed much from last year. We finished on the track, did some strides and stretched out. As we stretched, the Menard girls team was still out there celebrating their championship. As I watched them celebrate it became real....after four years, this is it. Our final chance.
We headed back to the bus and went out to the town. There, we went inside the oldest Catholic Church in the state. We all said a quick prayer, then left and went back to the hotel. On the way back, Coach Nastasi (our assistant cc coach and head track coach) couldn't help but talk of track season the whole way. We then went to dinner, which was a catered pasta meal, and the bread was phenomenal. I probably ate a couple pieces too many, but it was just too good. We finished eating and went to check out the Christmas light display. We took a couple pictures before calling it a night and heading back to the hotel.
I didn't sleep too well that night due to a surprising sense of excitement rather than the usual nervousness. Today was the day. We had some breakfast and went out and jogged a mile or so. Thus came the worst part as the waiting game began. My roommate Nick and I sat in our room and idly passed the time. We couldn't help but talk of the what ifs: what if we won, what if this, what if that. We soon laid the topic to rest, for after years of what ifs, there would be no more what ifs....that day was here. We loaded up our bus around 12 and prepared to head out. The short ride from the hotel to NSU is traditionally silent, and tradition was upheld, as not a word was spoken. When we arrived, we found our area had already been set up by a slew of teammates who came up on their own to cheer us on. I was psyched to see everyone all there. They all gave us a good luck, but soon left us to ourselves to get ready. We sat under the tent until it was time. We laced up our spikes and headed over to the starting line. As we walked past the deluge of gold that was our parents and teammates, they erupted into cheers. I couldn't help but tear up...hard to believe I'd never hear that cheer again. I was probably a little too sentimental before this race, but I couldn't help it. It was my last cross country race for Saint Paul's.
We headed out to the field and warmed up. The usual mile jog, dynamics, and strides. Nothing different-it was just another race. We greeted runners from other schools and wished them good luck before heading to the line. Amongst the crowd of Saint Paul's supporters were a few alumni. Coach Terryl's only cross country state champion, Jonathon Thomas, had come to watch us run. In addition to JT, the three seniors from the 2011 team- Ryan, Scott, and Christian- all made the trip. Kraemer, DC, and I were the only varsity returnees from that team, and the memory of what happened never quite left us. We were undefeated that year heading into state and were the unquestioned favorites. And then Christian fell. If he finishes, we win by a landslide. But instead, we had a state title ripped away from us. I'll never forget that feeling; I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. To be so close, and to lose it in the way we did was nothing short of devastating. The next year we attempted to earn our redemption, only to be beaten by a West Monroe team that was just flat out better then us. So now this was it. Our final chance to break the so-called "curse." The entirety of the team gathered in. After the prayer, we did the wolf call one last time:
"Who are we?"
"Wolves!"
"What are we?"
"Wolf-pack!"
It was the loudest one yet. We were ready.
The 7 of us were then left alone on the line. Me, DC, Kraemer, Burke, Nick, Spence, and Eric. There was an indescribable feeling of being on that line. Here I was with 6 other guys who could be the number one or two runner
on almost every team in the state. But they weren't here for individual accomplishments, for the ever-elusive team title was all we were after. Each of these guys were like a brother to me (especially Spencer), and I loved them to death. Now we were all together, one last time. And we were done losing.
The gun shot off and we were off. The Robinson bros took it out pretty hard, which was what I was expecting. Coach Terryl's prerace message resonated through my mind. "Run conservatively, we can only beat ourselves." So Eric and I held ourselves back. The plan was to work together, and that's what we did. We slowly reeled the two in, catching them just before the mile. 4:55. A little quick but nothing too bad. Brice kept pushing the pace, so Eric and I let him. At some point the rest of the pack fell off and it was just the three of us. I managed to sneak a peek back and see how our team was doing. Kraemer and DC were definitely up there. Spencer was a little further back, but that was okay, he loves to run from behind. I felt pretty good about our chances, but as I knew so painstakingly well, anything could happen. The pace had noticeably eased up, which was evidenced by our 10:08 2 mile clocking. I decided it was time to make my move and I took off. Taking off at the two mile had worked for me in the past at Walker and Metro and I felt like it was an good, conservative strategy. It became readily apparent, however, that today I was not up for a kick from such a far distance out. But there was no turning back now.
Around a half mile out was when I started to feel pretty rough. I was reassured by the fact that at this point Eric and I were all that remained of the front pack-we would go 1-2 after all. I felt increasingly tired with each passing step, and once I reached the track, I knew it wouldn't end well. With about a 100 to go, Eric hesitantly approached my outside shoulder. He seemed quite reluctant to pass me, but by this point I had nothing left. I assured him to go on, "go ahead man, it's your day." By then, I was concerned soley with my well being. I eerily felt flashbacks of Christians terrible meltdown two years earlier, and I eased myself back and repeated "just finish, finish" as I trotted across the line.
This was quite frankly the hardest part. I had been asked numerous times throughout the year what would happen if Eric beat me, and I always answered the same way. I said that it wouldn't bother me, because every race I'll give nothing less then my best, and if I gave my all, and he still beats me, then our team will only do better. Saying that is much easier in concept...when it actually happens, in the state championship of all places, the pill is much harder to swallow. But if I didn't, it would be hypocritical of everything I believed in. There are tons of excuses that can be made, but it all boils down to on that day, he was better than me. And at the end of the day, we still went 1-2, which is really all that counts. Rather than hold a sense of animosity towards him, I couldn't be more proud of him. That kid is going places.
Now that my race is finished, I turned my attention to the track as we finished out the race. Kraemer was the next blue and gold runner to cross, he was 8th. I looked back up and there was DC in 10th. Now all we needed was one more. I looked all over the track for Spencer, and my gut sank when I couldn't find him. Next thing I knew, he came barreling across the line in the 13th. To explain the feeling that ensued would be impossible. We did it! State Champs. As our 7 runner, Nick Taylor, crossed, I grabbed his attention and stuck my arms up in the air in a declaration of victory. No words were needed as Nick rushed over and jumped on top of me, crying tears of joy. The race officials unsuccessfully attempted to peel him off of me, for there was no stopping him. Kraemer soon jumped in and was patting us on the back from behind, all of us tearing up. I'll never forget that moment, we did it! The rest of the day was a blur of teary-eyed hugs with countless parents and teammates. I took more pictures than one could ever imagine, which is really saying a lot from Angelle Albright's son. We tried to pry the trophy from Coach Terryl's hands, but he wasn't letting go...ever. He's since admitted to sleeping with it, which, quite frankly, didn't surprise me in the least. After everything we had been through, I couldn't blame him. Coming as close as we did hurt. But those pains only made finally doing it all the sweeter. For us seniors, it's truly a storybook ending. We went out on top, and more importantly, became best friends in the process. It's been a hell of ride, but it couldn't have ended any better. It's really hard to believe my high school cross country career is over...my advice to everyone reading this is to appreciate it. Don't get caught up in the big picture and enjoy each day, cause before you know it, it'll be over. I love every moment I've spent with my team, state was merely a culmination of what's been an incredible ride.
The Saint Paul's journey to state begins two days prior, as our team met early Sunday morning for a mass at a local monastery, St Joseph's Abbey. We have done numerous training runs through the overgrown trails of the Abbey, so I found it fitting that we should return here one last time before our final race. After the service, my teammate Michael Burke and I spent a great deal of effort trying to put our art history knowledge to the test and to discern whether the church was of Byzantine or Romanesque styles. After intensive thought, we decided it was a little bit of both. We all then went to Kraemer's house, got in our run for the day, and went home to prepare for the next day's trip.
My brother and I got to school at the usual time on this anything but usual day. For every good luck and pat on the back we received, there was an equal amount of sarcastic "don't blow it this time." To the Saint Paul's student body this was the third time their cross country team left for state number 1, and they previously returned a different ranking entirely. Their flippant remarks were nothing more than humorous teasing-they wanted us to bring it home just as much as we did. Third times the charm, right?
The bus left around 8:30 and we were on our way. The bus was abnormally spacious....rather than the typical 50 some odd kids crammed in, I was only one of 8. It would have been 9 had one of our senior alternates not been sick. As much as I would have liked to have many of my other teammates there, the trip was far more peaceful with just the 8 of us. Besides, most of our team would travel up on their own the next day. Coach Terryl presented us with two shirts, as he does for the team at state every year: the first, a nice St Pauls cross country shirt. The second, a somewhat risqué shirt saying "train hard, don't suck." The bus ride was filled with on and off naps and conversations, nothing really out of the ordinary. We stopped at a gas station only to find the John Curtis team there as well. We told them hey and talked for a bit, before eventually heading on our own way. We stopped for lunch as we do every year at the Alexandria Cracker Barrel and loaded up on some fantastic pancakes. I managed to beat the Cracker Barrel Golf Tee game and was deemed, by Cracker Barrel standards, a genius. We then arrived at our hotel, changed into running attire, and headed out to jog the course. We found the first day's times to be a little slower then we expected, but that didn't matter. The state meet was about place, not time. We then jogged the course, only to find it hadn't changed much from last year. We finished on the track, did some strides and stretched out. As we stretched, the Menard girls team was still out there celebrating their championship. As I watched them celebrate it became real....after four years, this is it. Our final chance.
We headed back to the bus and went out to the town. There, we went inside the oldest Catholic Church in the state. We all said a quick prayer, then left and went back to the hotel. On the way back, Coach Nastasi (our assistant cc coach and head track coach) couldn't help but talk of track season the whole way. We then went to dinner, which was a catered pasta meal, and the bread was phenomenal. I probably ate a couple pieces too many, but it was just too good. We finished eating and went to check out the Christmas light display. We took a couple pictures before calling it a night and heading back to the hotel.
I didn't sleep too well that night due to a surprising sense of excitement rather than the usual nervousness. Today was the day. We had some breakfast and went out and jogged a mile or so. Thus came the worst part as the waiting game began. My roommate Nick and I sat in our room and idly passed the time. We couldn't help but talk of the what ifs: what if we won, what if this, what if that. We soon laid the topic to rest, for after years of what ifs, there would be no more what ifs....that day was here. We loaded up our bus around 12 and prepared to head out. The short ride from the hotel to NSU is traditionally silent, and tradition was upheld, as not a word was spoken. When we arrived, we found our area had already been set up by a slew of teammates who came up on their own to cheer us on. I was psyched to see everyone all there. They all gave us a good luck, but soon left us to ourselves to get ready. We sat under the tent until it was time. We laced up our spikes and headed over to the starting line. As we walked past the deluge of gold that was our parents and teammates, they erupted into cheers. I couldn't help but tear up...hard to believe I'd never hear that cheer again. I was probably a little too sentimental before this race, but I couldn't help it. It was my last cross country race for Saint Paul's.
We headed out to the field and warmed up. The usual mile jog, dynamics, and strides. Nothing different-it was just another race. We greeted runners from other schools and wished them good luck before heading to the line. Amongst the crowd of Saint Paul's supporters were a few alumni. Coach Terryl's only cross country state champion, Jonathon Thomas, had come to watch us run. In addition to JT, the three seniors from the 2011 team- Ryan, Scott, and Christian- all made the trip. Kraemer, DC, and I were the only varsity returnees from that team, and the memory of what happened never quite left us. We were undefeated that year heading into state and were the unquestioned favorites. And then Christian fell. If he finishes, we win by a landslide. But instead, we had a state title ripped away from us. I'll never forget that feeling; I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. To be so close, and to lose it in the way we did was nothing short of devastating. The next year we attempted to earn our redemption, only to be beaten by a West Monroe team that was just flat out better then us. So now this was it. Our final chance to break the so-called "curse." The entirety of the team gathered in. After the prayer, we did the wolf call one last time:
"Who are we?"
"Wolves!"
"What are we?"
"Wolf-pack!"
It was the loudest one yet. We were ready.
The 7 of us were then left alone on the line. Me, DC, Kraemer, Burke, Nick, Spence, and Eric. There was an indescribable feeling of being on that line. Here I was with 6 other guys who could be the number one or two runner
on almost every team in the state. But they weren't here for individual accomplishments, for the ever-elusive team title was all we were after. Each of these guys were like a brother to me (especially Spencer), and I loved them to death. Now we were all together, one last time. And we were done losing.
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If you would be interested in keeping a travel journal, please write to <a href="mailto:pat@louisianarunning.com">pat@louisianarunning.com</a>. </p>
