Anticipation for the 2013 Footlocker South Regional Cross Country meet had begun to consistently build as the season drew closer to an end, and when the hype surrounding the state meet faded away, our team knew that the post-season had finally arrived. On Tuesday, as our team escorted the trophies into school, we told our friends that we still had races to run before our season would be over. Many found it absurd, and phrases such as, “Y’all are still running?!” had become the popular response. Despite the reminders that we still had a week left of practice (two weeks for me), our team was ready to travel to Houston and challenge ourselves against the best of the south at the Nike Cross Regional meet.
I, along with my brother, left school early on Friday so that we had time to get home and pack our suitcases for the approaching over-night trip at The Woodlands Resort in Texas. We soon found ourselves in my mother’s SUV (which has seen far too many trips to Highland Park) along with Jesse, Peyton, my mom, and my coach, who also responds to “dad”. We were en route to Texas, and I was as ready as ever to kick off the post-season.
During the trip to Nike, I played out numerous scenarios of the upcoming race in my head, but the race that was really on my mind was one week in the future; in North Carolina. I braved the rainy and cold conditions in Houston and finished well, with a time of 16 minutes and 25 seconds for 5k. During the ride home, I was excited about the upcoming week of practice for the race in North Carolina. Sunday’s practice called for an 11½ mile long run, and Monday was an off day. Going to my girlfriend’s house to receive good luck wishes from her and her family was on Monday’s agenda, and preparation for the next day’s workout began that night. Even before I ran the race in Houston, my coach/dad had stressed how important the Tuesday before Footlocker’s practice would be. Tuesday was meant to simulate the race on Saturday.
I woke up Tuesday morning and ate my normal, pre-race breakfast of two waffles, a cup of water, and half of a banana. After breakfast, I went back to sleep until it was time to get ready for practice. I had my gear laid out on my bed just as it would be in our hotel later that weekend. I had decided to race in my favorite pair of racing shorts, my running gloves, my teammate’s orange running sleeves, and my bright orange Louisiana Running singlet. Above my uniform was a thick pair of wind pants, a light running jacket under this year’s state meet hoodie, and the beanie from the Nike Cross Regional meet. Throughout the week, my dad had emphasized keeping warm, and he had decided that I should keep hand warmers in my pockets and foot warmers on my socks. Once I was dressed, I went to the track where our team practices and I did my warm-up consisting of drills, an easy two miles, and strides. When the time came for me to get race ready, I took off my warm-ups and peeled the foot warmers off of my socks so that I could put my spikes on. I immediately felt the wind and the cold mist; it felt like I was being frozen. I made my way to the start line and quickly began the workout that my dad calls “A Slow Man’s Version of the Prefontaine Workout”. Within the first half of a mile, I could feel the wind creeping into my singlet, and the mist was not hesitating to cover every inch of open skin. Throughout the run, my body became numb and I vowed to myself that I would not go to college where it was colder than this. I finished my run and quickly put on my warm-ups so that I could begin my, ironically named, cool-down. The rest of the week consisted of an easy 7 miles on Wednesday and nothing on Thursday because my dad, my grandfather, and I were leaving for North Carolina that day.
Thursday was not only the day that I left for the Footlocker South Regional meet, it was also Thanksgiving Day. My family enjoyed lunch together and after we ate, they said goodbye and wished me good luck as my dad and I left for my grandfather’s house in my tiny, two-door civic. I had claimed the back seat and my father and grandfather agreed to sit upfront. After we picked up my grandfather, I put my headphones on so that I could listen to some music and try to relax for the long car ride ahead. I had already fallen asleep once we had turned onto the interstate and I woke up about 2-3 hours later. I noticed that our car was not moving and I assumed, based on the amount of time that had elapsed, that we were somewhere in Mississippi or Alabama. Unfortunately, I was wrong; we were just outside of New Orleans. Traffic had completely stopped and it did not start moving until an hour after I had woken up, we were almost 3 hours late and headed to Atlanta, Georgia on Thanksgiving Day. Soon, we would have to stop and eat dinner because we did not bring any food for the trip. Somehow, we had all forgotten that it was Thanksgiving Night and that every restaurant would be closed. We realized this after we checked about five restaurants and found that they were all closed for the night. My dad parked at the nearest gas station and my grandfather and I went inside to search for a meal. My Thanksgiving dinner consisted of a generic-gas station sandwich and a bowl of microwavable broccoli noodles, which was not what I was expecting but I was definitely thankful that we found something to eat. It was getting late and we had to continue on our journey for Atlanta. Due to the traffic hold up in New Orleans, we did not arrive at our hotel until midnight. Exhausted by the trip, we quickly fell asleep once we got in our room and slept in late.
Friday morning, I ate a quick breakfast, packed my bag into the trunk of my car, and left Atlanta for Charlotte, North Carolina. This trip was much shorter than the first and we arrived in Charlotte at about noon. Upon arrival, we checked in to our hotel and ate at the nearby Boston market for lunch. Now it was time to get dressed to go run and observe the unfamiliar course at McAlpine Park. On the way to the park, my dad and I stopped at a sporting goods store to pick up a pair of ear warmers; as I have said before, I am not a fan of cold weather. When we got to the park and found the start line, I did my warm-up while my dad walked off certain splits so that I could be aware of my pace in the next day’s race. After I finished my warm-up, I ran the course at a relatively easy pace of about 6 minutes and 30 seconds per mile and then I stretched for 15 minutes. After, my dad and I walked off most of the course to determine the specific routes that I should take, how to treat the hill (up and down) and, most importantly, when and how to pass the other runners. Then, we left the course and went back to our hotel to get ready for dinner, an unlimited pasta buffet put on by footlocker, and to watch the LSU game with my grandfather, a die-hard Tiger fan. After LSU’s dramatic win over Arkansas, we left our hotel for the pasta dinner and packet pickup. As we were walking in, we found Zachary Albright, the only other boy participant from Louisiana. We talked for a while about the State and Nike courses and he gave me some tips about the Footlocker course. Then, we picked up our packets, looked at a course map, and I went to the buffet to eat some pasta. After the dinner, I went back to the hotel so that I could get some sleep before the long day ahead. I set up my race and warm-up gear on the dresser as I did at my house earlier that week and then I drank yet another bottle of water and got ready for bed. Once the lights were out, I thought about the upcoming race for a while, said my nighttime prayers, and went to sleep.
I woke up early Saturday morning and went downstairs for my normal pre-race breakfast of waffles, half of a banana, and a cup of water. While I was eating, a woman approached our table and she asked me if I was running in the championship race. I told her that I was and she said that some years back, her son had qualified for the national race. She then shared with me many words of encouragement and wished me good luck. After, I went upstairs to get dressed for the race and to pack up my bag for the ride home. My dad checked out of the hotel for us and it was time to leave for the race. When I took my first step outside of the hotel I felt the cold air reminding me that I was in store for an exciting race. We arrived at the course 2 hours before my race to find a swarm of thousands of cross country runners and fans packed into a single park, each person ready for the day’s races. About an hour before my race, I began my warm up. Throughout my warm-up, I was constantly trying to keep my legs warm and loose in the cold weather. I had finished my warm up with about 10 minutes left before my race started. At this time, my dad and I shared our routine pre-race fist bump and he said, as he always does, “Go get ‘em.” Then he ran off to the first split that he wanted to give me, leaving me alone with my grandfather. I got race-ready, got my spikes on, and shared a handshake with my grandfather consisting of an exploding fist bump. He wished me good luck and took my bag for me as I made my way through the gates, toward the start line.
I took position in the second row of runners toeing the line on a dirt path, which I preferred over the grass field adjacent to it. There were an extra two rows of runners behind me and the line spanned wider than the course at Highland Park, making this the largest field I have ever raced in. Soon after I took position on the line, the starter gave us our directions, shouted the starting commands, and shot the gun. The pack went out faster than I had ever seen before, crazy fast, causing me to find myself in last place for the first quarter of a mile. After the first quarter of a mile, I began to move myself through the back of the pack pretty successfully, putting me in the top two thirds of the pack by the time the mile split came (if I had to guess, I would say I was in 200th place out of about 320 at the mile split). I could not determine exactly where the mile mark was since the course was so dense with other runners and spectators, but from where the times were being yelled from, I figured that my first mile was about 5 minutes and 10 seconds. Right after the mile split, the pack got extremely condensed and the course had become narrower, making it harder to pass other runners. Also, the second mile features “the hill”; hard to run up, but harder to run down. This hill seemed, roughly, 200-250 meters of a winding uphill and a steep, narrow, uneven downhill followed by a 90 degree right turn overlooking the lake. The only way to run this part is too try and maintain balance as you fly down, letting your legs go (and do not fall in the lake; apparently it has happened before). After a quick lap around the lake, I found myself at the two mile split with 10 minutes and 26 seconds on the clock; a 5:16 mile. By now, the pack had opened up and there was room to run and pass. The last mile did not feature any crazy obstacles, like the insane start of the first mile or “the hill” of the second mile, it was away from the spectators, deep in the woods where all there was to do was dig deep and race whoever was doing the same. The finish opened up around the lake where you can see the finish line for about a quarter of a mile, making it easy to know when it was time to kick. The final stretch is a deafening sprint lined by spectators all the way up to the chutes. I crossed the line at 16 minutes and 3 seconds; about a 5:02 final mile.
I had just finished the longest, most fun, and most rewarding cross country season of my career and I could not have been happier with how it went. That course at McAlpine Park left such a big impression on me, that it became my new favorite course. I finished the morning with a 2 mile cool-down jog with Zachary Albright and my normal stretches. After I had let the whole experience sink in, we left the park and headed home. I was exhausted on the ride home and I quickly fell asleep in the back seat of the car, and I would like to say that I dreamt of the upcoming track season throughout the ride home.
